II 


IRLF 


k* 

ft 


BHBB 


INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 


Snana  called  loudly  to  her  companion  turnip-diggers. 
FRONTISPIECE.    See  page  123. 


INDIAN 
CHILD    LIFE 


CHARLES  A.    EASTMAN 

(Ohiyesa) 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 

GEORGE  VARIAN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,    AND    COMPANY 
1915 


Copyright,  191S, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 


8.  J,  PARKHILL  «te  Co.,  BOSTON,  TT.S.A. 


A  LETTER  TO  THE  CHILDREN 

DEAR  CHILDREN:  —  You  will  like  to  know  that 
the  man  who  wrote  these  true  stories  is  himself  one 
of  the  people  he  describes  so  pleasantly  and  so  lov 
ingly  for  you.  He  hopes  that  when  you  have  finished 
this  book,  the  Indians  will  seem  to  you  very  real 
and  very  friendly.  He  is  not  willing  that  all  your 
knowledge  of  the  race  that  formerly  possessed  this 
continent  should  come  from  the  lips  of  strangers  and 
enemies,  or  that  you  should  think  of  them  as  blood 
thirsty  and  treacherous,  as  savage  and  unclean. 

War,  you  know,  is  always  cruel,  and  it  is  true  that 
there  were  stern  fighting  men  among  the  Indians, 
as  well  as  among  your  own  forefathers.  But  there 
were  also  men  of  peace,  men  generous  and  kindly 
and  religious.  There  were  tender  mothers,  and 
happy  little  ones,  and  a  home  life  that  was  pure  ancl 
true.  There  were  high  ideals  of  loyalty  and  honor. 
It  will  do  you  good  and  make  you  happier  to  read 
of  these  things. 

Perhaps  you  wonder  how  a  "real,  live  Indian" 
could  write  a  book.  I  will  tell  you  how.  The  story 
of  this  man's  life  is  itself  as  wonderful  as  a  fairy  tale. 
Born  in  a  wigwam,  as  he  has  told  you,  and  early  left 
motherless,  he  was  brought  up,  like  the  little  Hia 
watha,  by  a  good  grandmother.  When  he  was  four 
years  old,  war  broke  out  between  his  people  and  the 
United  States  government.  The  Indians  were  de 
feated  and  many  of  them  were  killed.  Some  fled 
northward  into  Canada  and  took  refuge  under  the 


343114 


vi  A    LETTER 

British  flag,  among  them  the  writer  of  this  book, 
with  his  grandmother  and  an  uncle.  His  father 
was  captured  by  the  whites. 

After  ten  years  of  that  wild  life,  now  everywhere 
at  an  end,  of  which  he  has  given  you  a  true  picture 
in  his  books,  his  father,  whom  the  good  President 
Lincoln  had  pardoned  and  released  from  the  military 
prison,  made  the  long  and  dangerous  journey  to 
Canada  to  find  and  bring  back  his  youngest  son. 
The  Sioux  were  beginning  to  learn  that  the  old  life 
must  go,  and  that,  if  they  were  to  survive  at  all, 
they  must  follow  "  the  white  man's  road,"  long  and 
hard  as  it  looked  to  a  free  people.  They  were  be 
ginning  to  plow  and  sow  and  send  their  children  to 
school. 

Ohiyesa,  the  Winner,  as  the  boy  was  called,  came 
home  with  his  father  to  what  was  then  Dakota  Ter 
ritory,  to  a  little  settlement  of  Sioux  homesteaders. 
Everything  about  the  new  life  was  strange  to  him, 
and  at  first  he  did  not  like  it  at  all.  He  had  thoughts 
of  running  away  and  making  his  way  back  to  Can 
ada.  But  his  father,  Many  Lightnings,  who  had 
been  baptized  a  Christian  under  the  name  of  Jacob 
Eastman,  told  him  that  he,  too,  must  take  a  new 
name,  and  he  chose  that  of  Charles  Alexander  East 
man.  He  was  told  to  cut  off  his  long  hair  and  put 
on  citizen's  clothing.  Then  his  father  made  him 
choose  between  going  to  school  and  working  at  the 
plow. 

Ohiyesa  tried  plowing  for  half  a  day.  It  was  hard 
work  to  break  the  tough  prairie  sod  with  his  father's 
oxen  and  the  strange  implement  they  gave  him.  He 
decided  to  try  school.  Rather  to  his  surprise,  he 
liked  it,  and  he  kept  on.  His  teachers  were  pleased 
with  his  progress,  and  soon  better  opportunities 
opened  to  him.  He  was  sent  farther  east  to  a  better 


A    LETTER  vii 

school,  where  he  continued  to  do  well,  and  soon  went 
higher.  In  the  long  summer  vacations  he  worked, 
on  farms,  in  shops  and  offices;  and  in  winter  he 
studied  and  played  football  and  all  the  other  games 
you  play,  until  after  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  he 
found  himself  with  the  diplomas  of  a  famous  college 
and  a  great  universitj^,  a  Bachelor  of  Science,  a 
Doctor  of  Medicine,  and  a  doubly  educated  man  — 
educated  in  the  lore  of  the  wilderness  as  well  as  in 
some  of  the  deepest  secrets  of  civilization. 

Since  that  day,  a  good  many  more  years  have 
passed.  Ohiyesa,  known  as  Doctor  Charles  A.  East 
man,  has  now  a  home  and  six  children  of  his  own 
among  the  New  England  hills.  He  has  hundreds 
of  devoted  friends  of  both  races.  He  is  the  author 
of  five  books  which  have  been  widely  read,  some  of 
them  in  England,  France  and  Germany  as  well  as 
in  America,  and  he  speaks  face  to  face  to  thousands 
of  people  every  year.  Perhaps  some  of  you  have 
heard  from  his  own  lips  his  recollections  of  wild  life. 
You  may  find  all  the  stories  in  this  book,  and  many 
more  of  the  same  sort,  in  the  books  called  "  Indian 
Boyhood,"  and  "  Old  Indian  Days,"  published  by 
Doubleday,  Page  and  Company,  of  Garden  City, 
L.  I.,  who  have  kindly  consented  to  the  publication 
of  this  little  volume  in  order  that  the  children  in  our 
schools  might  read  stories  of  real  Indians  by  a  real 
Indian. 


CONTENTS 

PART  ONE 
MY  INDIAN  CHILDHOOD 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    "  THE  PITIFUL  LAST  " 1 

II.    EARLY  HARDSHIPS 9 

III.  AN  INDIAN  SUGAR  CAMP 19 

IV.  GAMES  AND  SPORTS 26 

V.    AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING    ....  37 

VI.    THE  BOY  HUNTER 48 

VII.    EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE 58 

PART  Two 
STORIES  OF  REAL  INDIANS 

I.    WINONA'S  CHILDHOOD 75 

II.    WINONA'S  GIRLHOOD 83 

III.  A  MIDSUMMER  FEAST 93 

IV.  THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS       .       .103 
V.    SNANA'S  FAWN 118 

VI.    HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING    .       .       .       .131 

VII.    THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  145 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Snana     called     loudly    to     her    companion 

turnip-diggers Frontispiece 

So  he  bravely  jumped  upon  the  nest     .       .     PAGE    32 

"  Oh,  what  nice  claws  he  has,  uncle!  "  I  ex 
claimed  eagerly "69 

He  began  to  sing  a  dirge  for  him  ..."    140 


PART  ONE 

MY  INDIAN  CHILDHOOD 


"  THE   PITIFUL  LAST  " 

WHAT  boy  would  not  be  an  In 
dian  for  a  while  when  he  thinks 
of  the  freest  life  in  the  world? 
This  life  was  mine.    Every  day  there  was 
a  real  hunt.    There  was  real  game. 

No  people  have  a  better  use  of  their 
five  senses  than  the  children  of  the  wilder 
ness.  We  could  smell  as  well  as  hear  and 
see.  We  could  feel  and  taste  as  well  as 
we  could  see  and  hear.  Nowhere  has  the 
memory  been  more  fully  developed  than  in 
the  wild  life,  and  I  can  still  see  wherein 
I  owe  much  to  my  early  training. 

Of  course  I  myself  do  not  remember 
when  I  first  saw  the  day,  but  my  brothers 


2  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

have  often  recalled  the  event  with  much 
mirth;  for  it  was  a  custom  of  the  Sioux 
that  when  a  boy  was  born  his  brother 
must  plunge  into  the  water,  or  roll  in  the 
snow  naked  if  it  was  winter  time;  and  if 
he  was  not  big  enough  to  do  either  of 
these  himself,  water  was  thrown  on  him. 
If  the  new-born  had  a  sister,  she  must 
be  immersed.  The  idea  was  that  a  warrior 
had  come  to  camp,  and  the  other  children 
must  display  some  act  of  hardihood. 

I  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  the  youngest 
of  five  children  who,  soon  after  I  was  born, 
were  left  motherless.  I  had  to  bear  the 
humiliating  name  "  Hakadah,"  meaning 
"  the  pitiful  last,"  until  I  should  earn  a 
more  dignified  and  appropriate  name.  I 
was  regarded  as  little  more  than  a  play 
thing  by  the  rest  of  the  children. 

The  babe  was  done  up  as  usual  in  a 
movable  cradle  made  from  an  oak  board 
two  and  a  half  feet  long  and  one  and  a  half 
feet  wide.  On  one  side  of  it  was  nailed 


"THE  PITIFUL  LAST"  3 

with  brass-headed  tacks  the  richly  em 
broidered  sack,  which  was  open  in  front 
and  laced  up  and  down  with  buckskin 
strings.  Over  the  arms  of  the  infant  was 
a  wooden  bow,  the  ends  of  which  were 
firmly  attached  to  the  board,  so  that  if  the 
cradle  should  fall  the  child's  head  and  face 
would  be  protected.  On  this  bow  were 
hung  curious  playthings  —  strings  of  artistic 
ally  carved  bones  and  hoofs  of  deer,  which 
rattled  when  the  little  hands  moved  them. 

In  this  upright  cradle  I  lived,  played,  and 
slept  the  greater  part  of  the  time  during 
the  first  few  months  of  my  life.  Whether 
I  was  made  to  lean  against  a  lodge  pole 
or  was  suspended  from  a  bough  of  a  tree, 
while  my  grandmother  cut  wood,  or  whether 
I  was  carried  on  her  back,  or  conveniently 
balanced  by  another  child  in  a  similar 
cradle  hung  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  pony, 
I  was  still  in  my  oaken  bed. 

This  grandmother,  who  had  already  lived 
through  sixty  years  of  hardships,  was  a 


4  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

wonder  to  the  young  maidens  of  the  tribe. 
She  showed  no  less  enthusiasm  over  Haka- 
dah  than  she  had  done  when  she  held  her 
first-born,  the  boy's  father,  in  her  arms. 
Every  little  attention  that  is  due  to  a 
loved  child  she  performed  with  much  skill 
and  devotion.  She  made  all  my  scanty 
garments  and  my  tiny  moccasins  with  a 
great  deal  of  taste.  It  was  said  by  all 
that  I  could  not  have  had  more  attention 
had  my  mother  been  living. 

Uncheedah  (grandmother)  was  a  great 
singer.  Sometimes,  when  Hakadah  wa 
kened  too  early  in  the  morning,  she  would 
sing  to  him  something  like  the  following 
lullaby: 

Sleep,  sleep,  my  boy,  the  Chippewas 

Are  far  away  —  are  far  away. 
Sleep,  sleep,  my  boy;  prepare  to  meet 

The  foe  by  day  —  the  foe  by  day! 
The  cowards  will  not  dare  to  fight 

Till  morning  break  —  till  morning  break. 
Sleep,  sleep,  my  child,  while  still  'tis  night; 

Then  bravely  wake  —  then  bravely  wake! 


"THE  PITIFUL  LAST"  5 

The  Dakota  women  were  wont  to  cut 
and  bring  their  fuel  from  the  woods  and, 
in  fact,  to  perform  most  of  the  drudgery 
of  the  camp.  This  of  necessity  fell  to  their 
lot  because  the  men  must  follow  the  game 
during  the  day.  Very  often  my  grand 
mother  carried  me  with  her  on  these  ex 
cursions;  and  while  she  worked  it  was  her 
habit  to  suspend  me  from  a  wild  grape 
vine  or  a  springy  bough,  so  that  the  least 
breeze  would  swing  the  cradle  to  and  fro. 

She  has  told  me  that  when  I  had  grown 
old  enough  to  take  notice,  I  was  apparently 
capable  of  holding  extended  conversations 
in  an  unknown  dialect  with  birds  and  red 
squirrels.  Once  I  fell  asleep  in  my  cradle, 
suspended  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground, 
while  Uncheedah  was  some  distance  away, 
gathering  birch  bark  for  a  canoe.  A  squir 
rel  had  found  it  convenient  to  come  upon 
the  bow  of  my  cradle  and  nibble  his  hick 
ory  nut,  until  he  awoke  me  by  dropping  the 
crumbs  of  his  meal.  It  was  a  common  thing 


\ 

6  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

for  birds  to  alight  on  my  cradle  in  the 
woods. 

After  I  left  my  cradle,  I  almost  walked 
away  from  it,  she  told  me.  She  then  began 
calling  my  attention  to  natural  objects. 
Whenever  I  heard  the  song  of  a  bird,  she 
would  tell  me  what  bird  it  came  from,  some 
thing  after  this  fashion : 

"  Hakadah,  listen  to  Shechoka  (the  robin) 
calling  his  mate.  He  says  he  has  just  found 
something  good  to  eat."  Or  "  Listen  to 
Oopehanska  (the  thrush) ;  he  is  singing  for 
his  little  wife.  He  will  sing  his  best. "  When 
in  the  evening  the  whippoorwill  started  his 
song  with  vim,  no  further  than  a  stone's 
throw  from  our  tent  in  the  woods,  she 
would  say  to  me: 

"  Hush!    It  may  be  an  0  jib  way  scout!  " 

Again,  when  I  waked  at  midnight,  she 
would  say: 

"  Do  not  cry!  Hinakaga  (the  owl)  is 
watching  you  from  the  tree-top." 

I  usually  covered  up  my  head,  for  I  had 


"THE  PITIFUL  LAST"  7 

perfect  faith  in  my  grandmother's  admoni 
tions,  and  she  had  given  me  a  dreadful  idea 
of  this  bird.  It  was  one  of  her  legends  that 
a  little  boy  was  once  standing  just  outside 
of  the  teepee  (tent),  crying  vigorously  for 
his  mother,  when  Hinakaga  swooped  down 
in  the  darkness  and  carried  the  poor  little 
fellow  up  into  the  trees.  It  was  well 
known  that  the  hoot  of  the  owl  was  com 
monly  imitated  by  Indian  scouts  when  on 
the  war-path.  There  had  been  dreadful 
massacres  immediately  following  this  call. 
Therefore  it  was  deemed  wise  to  impress 
the  sound  early  upon  the  mind  of  the 
child. 

Indian  children  were  trained  so  that 
they  hardly  ever  cried  much  in  the  night. 
This  was  very  expedient  and  necessary 
in  their  exposed  life.  In  my  infancy  it  was 
my  grandmother's  custom  to  put  me  to 
sleep,  as  she  said,  with  the  birds,  and  to 
waken  me  with  them,  until  it  became  a 
habit.  She  did  this  with  an  object  in  view. 


8  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

An  Indian  must  always  rise  early.  In  the 
first  place,  as  a  hunter,  he  finds  his  game 
best  at  daybreak.  Secondly,  other  tribes, 
when  on  the  war-path,  usually  make  their 
attack  very  early  in  the  morning.  Even 
when  our  people  are  moving  about  leisurely, 
we  like  to  rise  before  daybreak,  in  order 
to  travel  when  the  air  is  cool,  and  unob 
served,  perchance,  by  our  enemies. 

As  a  little  child,  it  was  instilled  into  me 
to  be  silent  and  reticent.  This  was  one 
of  the  most  important  traits  to  form  in 
the  character  of  the  Indian.  As  a  hunter 
and  warrior  it  was  considered  absolutely 
necessary  to  him,  and  was  thought  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  patience  and  self-control. 


II 

EARLY   HARDSHIPS 

ONE  of  the  earliest  recollections  of 
my  adventurous  childhood  is  the 
ride  I  had  on  a  pony's  side.  I 
was  passive  in  the  whole  matter.  A  little 
girl  cousin  of  mine  was  put  in  a  bag  and 
suspended  from  the  horn  of  an  Indian 
saddle;  but  her  weight  must  be  balanced 
or  the  saddle  would  not  remain  on  the 
animal's  back.  Accordingly,  I  was  put 
into  another  sack  and  made  to  keep  the 
saddle  and  the  girl  in  position!  I  did  not 
object,  for  I  had  a  very  pleasant  game  of 
peek-a-boo  with  the  little  girl,  until  we 
came  to  a  big  snow-drift,  where  the  poor 
beast  was  stuck  fast  and  began  to  lie  down. 
Then  it  was  not  so  nice! 

This  was  the  convenient  and  primitive 


10  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

way  in  which  some  mothers  packed  their 
children  for  winter  journeys.  However 
cold  the  weather  might  be,  the  inmate  of 
the  fur-lined  sack  was  usually  very  com 
fortable  —  at  least  I  used  to  think  so. 
I  believe  I  was  accustomed  to  all  the  pre 
carious  Indian  conveyances,  and,  as  a  boy, 
I  enjoyed  the  dog-travaux  ride  as  much  as 
any.  The  travaux  consisted  of  a  set  of 
rawhide  strips  securely  lashed  to  the  tent- 
poles,  which  were  harnessed  to  the  sides 
of  the  animal  as  if  he  stood  between  shafts, 
while  the  free  ends  were  allowed  to  drag 
on  the  ground.  Both  ponies  and  large  dogs 
were  used  as  beasts  of  burden,  and  they 
carried  in  this  way  the  smaller  children  as 
well  as  the  baggage. 

This  mode  of  travelling  for  children  was 
possible  only  in  the  summer,  and  as  the 
dogs  were  sometimes  unreliable,  the  little 
ones  were  exposed  to  a  certain  amount  of 
danger.  For  instance,  whenever  a  train 
of  dogs  had  been  travelling  for  a  long  time, 


EARLY  HARDSHIPS  11 

almost  perishing  with  the  heat  and  their 
heavy  loads,  a  glimpse  of  water  would 
cause  them  to  forget  all  their  responsibilities. 
Some  of  them,  in  spite  of  the  screams  of  the 
women,  would  swim  with  their  burdens 
into  the  cooling  stream,  and  I  was  thus, 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  made  to  par 
take  of  an  unwilling  bath. 

I  was  a  little  over  four  years  old  at  the 
time  of  the  "  Sioux  massacre  "  in  Minne 
sota.  In  the  general  turmoil,  we  took 
flight  into  British  Columbia,  and  the  jour 
ney  is  still  vividly  remembered  by  all 
our  family.  A  yoke  of  oxen  and  a 
lumber-wagon  were  taken  from  some 
white  farmer  and  brought  home  for  our 
conveyance. 

How  delighted  I  was  when  I  learned  that 
we  were  to  ride  behind  those  wise-looking 
animals  and  in  that  gorgeously  painted 
wagon!  It  seemed  almost  like  a  living 
creature  to  me,  this  new  vehicle  with  four 
legs,  and  the  more  so  when  we  got  out 


12  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

of  axle-grease  and  the  wheels  went  along 
squealing  like  pigs! 

The  boys  found  a  great  deal  of  innocent 
fun  in  jumping  from  the  high  wagon  while 
the  oxen  were  leisurely  moving  along.  My 
elder  brothers  soon  became  experts.  At 
last,  I  mustered  up  courage  enough  to 
join  them  in  this  sport.  I  was  sure  they 
stepped  on  the  wheel,  so  I  cautiously  placed 
my  moccasined  foot  upon  it.  Alas,  before 
I  could  realize  what  had  happened,  I  was 
under  the  wheels,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  neighbor  immediately  behind  us,  I  might 
have  been  run  over  by  the  next  team  as  well. 

This  was  my  first  experience  with  a 
civilized  vehicle.  I  cried  out  all  possible 
reproaches  on  the  white  man's  team  and 
concluded  that  a  dog-travaux  was  good 
enough  for  me.  I  was  really  rejoiced  that 
we  were  moving  away  from  the  people 
who  made  the  wagon  that  had  almost 
ended  my  life,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
that  I  alone  was  to  blame.  I  could  not  be 


EARLY  HARDSHIPS  13 

persuaded  to  ride  in  that  wagon  again  and 
was  glad  when  we  finally  left  it  beside  the 
Missouri  river. 

The  summer  after  the  "  Minnesota  mas 
sacre,"  General  Sibley  pursued  our  people 
across  this  river.  Now  the  Missouri  is 
considered  one  of  the  most  treacherous 
rivers  in  the  world.  Even  a  good  modern 
boat  is  not  safe  upon  its  uncertain  current. 
We  were  forced  to  cross  in  buffalo-skin 
boats  —  as  round  as  tubs! 

The  Washechu  (white  men)  were  coming 
in  great  numbers  with  their  big  guns,  and 
while  most  of  our  men  were  fighting  them 
to  gain  time,  the  women  and  the  old  men 
made  and  equipped  the  temporary  boats, 
braced  with  ribs  of  willow.  Some  of  these 
were  towed  by  two  or  three  women  or  men 
swimming  in  the  water  and  some  by  ponies. 
It  was  not  an  easy  matter  to  keep  them  right 
side  up,  with  their  helpless  freight  of  little 
children  and  such  goods  as  we  possessed. 

In  our  flight,  we  little  folks  were  strapped 


14  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

in  the  saddles  or  held  in  front  of  an  older 
person,  and  in  the  long  night  marches  to 
get  away  from  the  soldiers,  we  suffered  from 
loss  of  sleep  and  insufficient  food.  Our 
meals  were  eaten  hastily,  and  sometimes 
in  the  saddle.  Water  was  not  always  to  be 
found.  The  people  carried  it  with  them  in 
bags  formed  of  tripe  or  the  dried  pericardium 
of  animals. 

Now  we  were  compelled  to  trespass  upon 
the  country  of  hostile  tribes  and  were 
harassed  by  them  almost  daily  and  nightly. 
Only  the  strictest  vigilance  saved  us. 

One  day  we  met  with  another  enemy  near 
the  British  lines.  It  was  a  prairie  fire. 
We  were  surrounded.  Another  fire  was 
quickly  made,  which  saved  our  lives. 

One  of  the  most  thrilling  experiences  of 
the  following  winter  was  a  blizzard,  which 
overtook  us  in  our  wanderings.  Here  and 
there,  a  family  lay  down  in  the  snow,  se 
lecting  a  place  where  it  was  not  likely 
to  drift  much.  For  a  day  and  a  night  we 


EARLY   HARDSHIPS  15 

lay  under  the  snow.  Uncle  stuck  a  long 
pole  beside  us  to  tell  us  when  the  storm 
was  over.  We  had  plenty  of  buffalo  robes 
and  the  snow  kept  us  warm,  but  we  found 
it  heavy.  After  a  time,  it  became  packed 
and  hollowed  out  around  our  bodies,  so 
that  we  were  as  comfortable  as  one  can  be 
under  those  circumstances. 

The  next  day  the  storm  ceased,  and  we 
discovered  a  large  herd  of  buffaloes  almost 
upon  us.  We  dug  our  way  out,  shot  some 
of  the  buffaloes,  made  a  fire  and  enjoyed 
a  good  dinner. 

I  was  now  an  exile  as  well  as  mother 
less;  yet  I  was  not  unhappy.  Our  wander 
ings  from  place  to  place  afforded  us  many 
pleasant  experiences  and  quite  as  many 
hardships  and  misfortunes.  There  were 
times  of  plenty  and  times  of  scarcity,  and 
we  had  several  narrow  escapes  from  death. 
In  savage  life,  the  early  spring  is  the  most 
trying  time  and  almost  all  the  famines 
occurred  at  this  period  of  the  year. 


16  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

The  Indians  are  a  patient  and  a  clannish 
people;  their  love  for  one  another  is 
stronger  than  that  of  any  civilized  people 
I  know.  If  this  were  not  so,  I  believe  there 
would  have  been  tribes  of  cannibals  among 
them.  White  people  have  been  known  to 
kill  and  eat  their  companions  in  preference 
to  starving;  but  Indians  —  never! 

In  times  of  famine,  the  adults  often 
denied  themselves  in  order  to  make  the 
food  last  as  long  as  possible  for  the  children, 
who  were  not  able  to  bear  hunger  as  well  as 
the  old.  As  a  people,  they  can  live  with 
out  food  much  longer  than  any  other  na 
tion. 

I  once  passed  through  one  of  these  hard 
springs  when  we  had  nothing  to  eat  for 
several  days.  I  well  remember  the  six 
small  birds  which  constituted  the  break 
fast  for  six  families  one  morning;  and  then 
we  had  no  dinner  or  supper  to  follow !  What 
a  relief  that  was  to  me  —  although  I  had 
only  a  small  wing  of  a  small  bird  for  my 


EARLY  HARDSHIPS  17 

share!  Soon  after  this,  we  came  into  a 
region  where  buffaloes  were  plenty,  and 
hunger  and  scarcity  were  forgotten. 

Such  was  the  Indians'  wild  life!  When 
game  was  to  be  had  and  the  sun  shone, 
they  easily  forgot  the  bitter  experiences 
of  the  winter  before.  Little  preparation 
was  made  for  the  future.  They  are  chil 
dren  of  Nature,  and  occasionally  she  whips 
them  with  the  lashes  of  experience,  yet 
they  are  forgetful  and  careless.  Much  of 
their  suffering  might  have  been  prevented 
by  a  little  calculation. 

During  the  summer,  when  Nature  is  at 
her  best,  and  provides  abundantly  for  the 
savage,  it  seems  to  me  that  no  life  is  happier 
than  his!  Food  is  free  —  lodging  free  — 
everything  free!  All  were  alike  rich  in  the 
summer,  and,  again,  all  were  alike  poor 
in  the  winter  and  early  spring.  However, 
their  diseases  were  fewer  and  not  so  de 
structive  as  now,  and  the  Indian's  health 
was  generally  good.  The  Indian  boy  en- 


18  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

joyed  such  a  life  as  almost  all  boys  dream 
of  and  would  choose  for  themselves  if  they 
were  permitted  to  do  so. 

The  raids  made  upon  our  people  by 
other  tribes  were  frequent,  and  we  had  to 
be  constantly  on  the  watch.  I  remember 
at  one  time  a  night  attack  was  made  upon 
our  camp  and  all  our  ponies  stampeded. 
Only  a  few  of  them  were  recovered,  and 
our  journeys  after  this  misfortune  were 
effected  mostly  by  means  of  the  dog-travaux. 

The  second  winter  after  the  massacre, 
my  father  and  my  two  older  brothers,  with 
several  others,  were  betrayed  by  a  half- 
breed  at  Winnipeg  to  the  United  States 
authorities.  As  I  was  then  living  with  my 
uncle  in  another  part  of  the  country,  I 
became  separated  from  them  for  ten  years. 
During  all  this  time  we  believed  that  they 
had  been  killed  by  the  whites,  and  I  was 
taught  that  I  must  avenge  their  deaths  as 
soon  as  I  was  able  to  go  upon  the  war-path. 


Ill 

AN  INDIAN   SUGAR  CAMP 

WITH  the  first  March  thaw  the 
thoughts  of  the  Indian  women 
of   my  childhood   days   turned 
promptly  to  the  annual  sugar-making.   This 
industry  was  chiefly  followed  by  the  old 
men  and  women  and  the  children.     The 
rest  of  the  tribe  went  out  upon  the  spring 
fur-hunt  at  this  season,  leaving  us  at  home 
to  make  the  sugar. 

The  first  and  most  important  of  the 
necessary  utensils  were  the  huge  iron  and 
brass  kettles  for  boiling.  Everything  else 
could  be  made,  but  these  must  be  bought, 
begged  or  borrowed.  A  maple  tree  was 
felled  and  a  log  canoe  hollowed  out,  into 
which  the  sap  was  to  be  gathered.  Little 
troughs  of  basswood  and  birchen  basins 


20  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

were  also  made  to  receive  the  sweet  drops 
as  they  trickled  from  the  tree. 

As  soon  as  these  labors  were  accomplished, 
we  all  proceeded  to  the  bark  sugar  house, 
which  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  fine  grove  of 
maples  on  the  bank  of  the  Minnesota 
river.  We  found  this  hut  partially  filled 
with  the  snows  of  winter  and  the  withered 
leaves  of  the  preceding  autumn,  and  it  must 
be  cleared  for  our  use.  In  the  meantime 
a  tent  was  pitched  outside  for  a  few  days' 
occupancy.  The  snow  was  still  deep  in 
the  woods,  with  a  solid  crust  upon  which 
we  could  easily  walk;  for  we  usually  moved 
to  the  sugar  house  before  the  sap  had 
actually  started,  the  better  to  complete 
our  preparations. 

My  grandmother  did  not  confine  herself 
to  canoe-making.  She  also  collected  a  good 
supply  of  fuel  for  the  fires,  for  she  would  not 
have  much  time  to  gather  wood  when  the 
sap  began  to  flow.  Presently  the  weather 
moderated  and  the  snow  began  to  melt. 


AN  INDIAN  SUGAR  CAMP  21 

The  month  of  April  brought  showers  which 
carried  most  of  it  off  into  the  Minnesota 
river.  Now  the  women  began  to  test  the 
trees  —  moving  leisurely  among  them,  axe 
in  hand,  and  striking  a  single  quick  blow, 
to  see  if  the  sap  would  appear.  Trees, 
like  people,  have  their  individual  characters; 
some  were  ready  to  yield  up  their  life- 
blood,  while  others  were  more  reluctant. 
Now  one  of  the  birchen  basins  was  set 
under  each  tree,  and  a  hardwood  chip 
driven  deep  into  the  cut  which  the  axe  had 
made.  From  the  corners  of  this  chip  — 
at  first  drop  by  drop,  then,  more  freely  — 
the  sap  trickled  into  the  little  dishes. 

It  is  usual  to  make  sugar  from  maples, 
but  several  other  trees  were  also  tapped 
by  the  Indians.  From  the  birch  and  ash 
was  made  a  dark-colored  sugar,  with  a 
somewhat  bitter  taste,  which  was  used  for 
medicinal  purposes.  The  box-elder  yielded 
a  beautiful  white  sugar,  whose  only  fault 
was  that  there  was  never  enough  of  it! 


22  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

A  long  fire  was  now  made  in  the  sugar 
house,  and  a  row  of  brass  kettles  suspended 
over  the  blaze.  The  sap  was  collected  by 
the  women  in  tin  or  birchen  buckets  and 
poured  into  the  canoes,  from  which  the 
kettles  were  kept  filled.  The  hearts  of 
the  boys  beat  high  with  pleasant  anticipa 
tions  when  they  heard  the  welcome  hissing 
sound  of  the  boiling  sap!  Each  boy  claimed 
one  kettle  for  his  especial  charge.  It  was 
his  duty  to  see  that  the  fire  was  kept  under 
it,  to  watch  lest  it  boil  over,  and  finally, 
when  the  sap  became  sirup,  to  test  it  upon 
the  snow,  dipping  it  out  with  a  wooden 
paddle.  So  frequent  were  these  tests  that 
for  the  first  day  or  two  we  consumed  nearly 
all  that  could  be  made;  and  it  was  not 
until  the  sweetness  began  to  pall  that  my 
grandmother  set  herself  in  earnest  to  store 
up  sugar  for  future  use.  She  made  it  into 
cakes  of  various  forms,  in  birchen  molds, 
and  sometimes  in  hollow  canes  or  reeds, 
and  the  bills  of  ducks  and  geese.  Some  of  it 


AN  INDIAN  SUGAR  CAMP  23 

was  pulverized  and  packed  in  rawhide 
cases.  Being  a  prudent  woman,  she  did 
not  give  it  to  us  after  the  first  month  or  so, 
except  upon  special  occasions,  and  it  was 
thus  made  to  last  almost  the  year  around. 
The  smaller  candies  were  reserved  as  an 
occasional  treat  for  the  little  fellows,  and 
the  sugar  was  eaten  at  feasts  with  wild 
rice  or  parched  corn,  and  also  with  pounded 
dried  meat.  Coffee  and  tea,  with  their 
substitutes,  were  all  unknown  to  us  in 
those  days 

Every  pursuit  has  its  trials  and  anxieties. 
My  grandmother's  special  tribulations,  dur 
ing  the  sugaring  season,  were  the  upsetting 
and  gnawing  of  holes  in  her  birch-bark 
pans.  The  transgressors  were  the  rabbit 
and  squirrel  tribes,  and  we  little  boys  for 
once  became  useful,  in  shooting  them  with 
our  bows  and  arrows.  We  hunted  all  over 
the  sugar  camp,  until  the  little  creatures 
were  fairly  driven  out  of  the  neighborhood. 
Occasionally  one  of  my  older  brothers 


24  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

brought  home  a  rabbit  or  two,  and  then  we 
had  a  feast. 

I  remember  on  this  occasion  of  our  last 
sugar  bush  in  Minnesota,  that  I  stood 
one  day  outside  of  our  hut  and  watched 
the  approach  of  a  visitor  —  a  bent  old 
man,  his  hair  almost  white,  and  carrying 
on  his  back  a  large  bundle  of  red  willow, 
or  kinnikinick,  which  the  Indians  use  for 
smoking.  He  threw  down  his  load  at  the 
the  door  and  thus  saluted  us:  "  You  have 
indeed  perfect  weather  for  sugar-making." 

It  was  my  great-grandfather,  Cloud  Man, 
whose  original  village  was  on  the  shores  of 
Lakes  Calhoun  and  Harriet,  now  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  city  of  Minneapolis.  He 
was  the  first  Sioux  chief  to  welcome  the 
Protestant  missionaries  among  his  people, 
and  a  well-known  character  in  those  pio 
neer  days.  He  brought  us  word  that  some 
of  the  peaceful  sugar-makers  near  us  on 
the  river  had  been  attacked  and  murdered 
by  roving  Ojibways.  This  news  disturbed 


AN  INDIAN  SUGAR  CAMP  25 

us  not  a  little,  for  we  realized  that  we  too 
might  become  the  victims  of  an  Ojibway 
war  party.  Therefore  we  all  felt  some  un 
easiness  from  this  time  until  we  returned 
heavy  laden  to  our  village. 


IV 

GAMES  AND  SPORTS 

F  |  ^HE  Indian  boy  was  a  prince  of 
the  wilderness.  He  had  but  very 

-*•  little  work  to  do  during  the  period 
of  his  boyhood.  His  principal  occupation 
was  the  practice  of  a  few  simple  arts  in 
warfare  and  the  chase.  Aside  from  this, 
he  was  master  of  his  time. 

It  is  true  that  our  savage  life  was  a  pre 
carious  one,  and  full  of  dreadful  catas 
trophes;  however,  this  never  prevented 
us  from  enjoying  our  sports  to  the  fullest 
extent.  As  we  left  our  teepees  in  the  morn 
ing,  we  were  never  sure  that  our  scalps 
would  not  dangle  from  a  pole  in  the  after 
noon!  It  was  an  uncertain  life,  to  be  sure. 
Yet  we  observed  that  the  fawns  skipped 
and  played  happily  while  the  gray  wolves 


GAMES  AND  SPORTS  27 

might  be  peeping  forth  from  behind  the 
hills,  ready  to  tear  them  limb  from  limb. 

Our  sports  were  molded  by  the  life  and 
customs  of  our  people;  indeed,  we  prac 
tised  only  what  we  expected  to  do  when 
grown.  Our  games  were  feats  with  the 
bow  and  arrow,  foot  and  pony  races, 
wrestling,  swimming  and  imitation  of  the 
customs  and  habits  of  our  fathers.  We  had 
sham  fights  with  mud  balls  and  willow 
wands;  we  played  lacrosse,  made  war  upon 
bees,  shot  winter  arrows  (which  were  used 
only  in  that  season),  and  coasted  upon  the 
ribs  of  animals  and  buffalo  robes. 

No  sooner  did  the  boys  get  together  than, 
as  a  usual  thing,  they  divided  into  squads 
and  chose  sides;  then  a  leading  arrow  was 
shot  at  random  into  the  air.  Before  it 
fell  to  the  ground  a  volley  from  the  bows 
of  the  participants  followed.  Each  player 
was  quick  to  note  the  direction  and  speed 
of  the  leading  arrow  and  he  tried  to  send 
his  own  at  the  same  speed  and  at  an  equal 


28  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

height,  so  that  when  it  fell  it  would  be 
closer  to  the  first  than  any  of  the  others. 

It  was  considered  out  of  place  to  shoot 
by  first  sighting  the  object  aimed  at.  This 
was  usually  impracticable  in  actual  life, 
because  the  object  was  almost  always  in 
motion,  while  the  hunter  himself  was  often 
upon  the  back  of  a  pony  at  full  gallop. 
Therefore,  it  was  the  off-hand  shot  that  the 
Indian  boy  sought  to  master.  There  was 
another  game  with  arrows  that  was  char 
acterized  by  gambling,  and  was  generally 
confined  to  the  men. 

The  races  were  an  every-day  occurrence. 
At  noon  the  boys  were  usually  gathered 
by  some  pleasant  sheet  of  water,  and  as 
soon  as  the  ponies  were  watered,  they  were 
allowed  to  graze  for  an  hour  or  two,  while 
the  boys  stripped  for  their  noonday  sports. 
A  boy  might  say  to  some  other  whom  he 
considered  his  equal: 

"  I  can't  run;  but  I  will  challenge  you 
to  fifty  paces." 


GAMES  AND  SPORTS  29 

A  former  hero,  when  beaten,  would  often 
explain  his  defeat  by  saying:  "  I  drank  too 
much  water." 

Boys  of  all  ages  were  paired  for  a  "  spin," 
and  the  little  red  men  cheered  on  their 
favorites  with  spirit. 

As  soon  as  this  was  ended,  the  pony 
races  followed.  All  the  speedy  ponies 
were  picked  out  and  riders  chosen.  If  a 
boy  declined  to  ride,  there  would  be  shouts 
of  derision. 

Last  of  all  came  the  swimming.  A  little 
urchin  would  hang  to  his  pony's  long  tail, 
while  the  latter,  with  only  his  head  above 
water,  glided  sportively  along.  Finally 
the  animals  were  driven  into  a  fine  field 
of  grass  and  we  turned  our  attention  to 
other  games. 

The  "  mud-and-willow  "  fight  was  rather 
a  severe  and  dangerous  sport.  A  lump  of 
soft  clay  was  stuck  on  the  end  of  a  limber 
and  springy  willow  wand  and  thrown  as 
boys  throw  apples  from  sticks,  with  con- 


30  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

siderable  force.  When  there  were  fifty 
or  a  hundred  players  on  each  side,  the 
battle  became  warm;  but  anything  to 
arouse  the  bravery  of  Indian  boys  seemed 
to  them  a  good  and  wholesome  diver 
sion. 

Wrestling  was  largely  indulged  in  by  us 
all.  It  may  seem  odd,  but  wrestling  was 
done  by  a  great  many  boys  at  once  —  from 
ten  to  any  number  on  a  side.  It  was  really 
a  battle,  in  which  each  one  chose  his 
opponent.  The  rule  was  that  if  a  boy  sat 
down,  he  was  let  alone,  but  as  long  as 
he  remained  standing  within  the  field, 
he  was  open  to  an  attack.  No  one  struck 
with  the  hand,  but  all  manner  of  tripping 
with  legs  and  feet  and  butting  with  the  knees 
was  allowed.  Altogether  it  was  an  ex 
hausting  pastime  —  fully  equal  to  the  Am 
erican  game  of  football,  and  only  the  young 
athlete  could  really  enjoy  it. 

One  of  our  most  curious  sports  was  a 
war  upon  the  nests  of  wild  bees.  We  im- 


GAMES  AND  SPORTS  31 

agined  ourselves  about  to  make  an  attack 
upon  the  0  jib  ways  or  some  tribal  foe.  We 
all  painted  and  stole  cautiously  upon  the 
nest;  then,  with  a  rush  and  war-whoop, 
sprang  upon  the  object  of  our  attack  and 
endeavored  to  destroy  it.  But  it  seemed 
that  the  bees  were  always  on  the  alert  and 
never  entirely  surprised,  for  they  always 
raised  quite  as  many  scalps  as  did  their 
bold  assailants!  After  the  onslaught  upon 
the  nest  was  ended,  we  usually  followed  it 
by  a  pretended  scalp  dance. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  first  experience 
in  this  mode  of  warfare,  there  were  two 
other  little  boys  who  were  also  novices. 
One  of  them  particularly  was  really  too 
young  to  indulge  in  an  exploit  of  that  kind. 
As  it  was  the  custom  of  our  people,  when 
they  killed  or  wounded  an  enemy  on  the 
battle-field,  to  announce  the  act  in  a  loud 
voice,  we  did  the  same.  My  friend,  Little 
Wound  (as  I  will  call  him,  for  I  do  not 
remember  his  name),  being  quite  small, 


32  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

was  unable  to  reach  the  nest  until  it  had 
been  well  trampled  upon  and  broken  and 
the  insects  had  made  a  counter  charge  with 
such  vigor  as  to  repulse  .and  scatter  our 
numbers  in  every  direction.  However,  he 
evidently  did  not  want  to  retreat  without 
any  honors;  so  he  bravely  jumped  upon 
the  nest  and  yelled: 

"  I,  the  brave  Little  Wound,  to-day  kill 
the  only  fierce  enemy!  " 

Scarcely  were  the  last  words  uttered 
when  he  screamed  as  if  stabbed  to  the 
heart.  One  of  his  older  companions  shouted : 

"  Dive  into  the  water!  Run!  Dive  into 
the  water!  "  for  there  was  a  lake  near  by. 
This  advice  he  obeyed. 

When  we  had  reassembled  and  were 
indulging  in  our  mimic  dance,  Little  Wound 
was  not  allowed  to  dance.  He  was  con 
sidered  not  to  be  in  existence  —  he  had 
been  killed  by  our  enemies,  the  Bee  tribe. 
Poor  little  fellow!  His  swollen  face  was 
sad  and  ashamed  as  he  sat  on  a  fallen  log 


So  he  bravely  jumped  upon  the  nest.     Page  32. 


GAMES  AND  SPORTS  33 

and  watched  the  dance.  Although  he  might 
well  have  styled  himself  one  of  the  noble 
dead  who  had  died  for  their  country,  yet 
he  was  not  unmindful  that  he  had  screamed, 
and  this  weakness  would  be  apt  to  recur 
to  him  many  times  in  the  future. 

We  had  some  quiet  plays  which  we 
alternated  with  the  more  severe  and  war 
like  ones.  Among  them  were  throwing 
wands  and  snow-arrows.  In  the  winter 
we  coasted  much.  We  had  no  "  double- 
rippers  "  or  toboggans,  but  six  or  seven 
of  the  long  ribs  of  a  buffalo,  fastened  to 
gether  at  the  larger  end,  answered  all 
practical  purposes.  Sometimes  a  strip  of 
bass-wood  bark,  four  feet  long  and  about 
six  inches  wide,  was  used  with  considerable 
skill.  We  stood  on  one  end  and  held  the 
other,  using  the  slippery  inside  of  the  bark 
for  the  outside,  and  thus  coasting  down 
long  hills  with  remarkable  speed. 

The  spinning  of  tops  was  one  of  the  all- 
absorbing  winter  sports.  We  made  our 


34  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

tops  heart-shaped  of  wood,  horn  or  bone. 
We  whipped  them  with  a  long  thong  of 
buckskin.  The  handle  was  a  stick  about 
a  foot  long  and  sometimes  we  whittled 
the  stick  to  make  it  spoon-shaped  at  one 
end. 

We  played  games  with  these  tops  —  two 
to  fifty  boys  at  one  time.  Each  whips  his 
top  until  it  hums;  then  one  takes  the  lead 
and  the  rest  follow  in  a  sort  of  obstacle 
race.  The  top  must  spin  all  the  way 
through.  There  were  bars  of  snow  over 
which  we  must  pilot  our  top  in  the  spoon 
end  of  our  whip;  then  again  we  would 
toss  it  in  the  air  on  to  another  open  spot 
of  ice  or  smooth  snow-crust  from  twenty 
to  fifty  paces  away.  The  top  that  holds 
out  the  longest  is  the  winner. 

We  loved  to  play  in  the  water.  When 
we  had  no  ponies,  we  often  had  swim 
ming  matches  of  our  own,  and  sometimes 
made  rafts  with  which  we  crossed  lakes 
and  rivers.  It  was  a  common  thing  to 


GAMES  AND  SPORTS  35 

"  duck  "  a  young  or  timid  boy  or  to  carry 
him  into  deep  water  to  struggle  as  best  he 
might. 

I  remember  a  perilous  ride  with  a  com 
panion  on  an  unmanageable  log,  when  we 
were  both  less  than  seven  years  old.  The 
older  boys  had  put  us  on  this  uncertain 
bark  and  pushed  us  out  into  the  swift 
current  of  the  river.  I  cannot  speak  for 
my  comrade  in  distress,  but  I  can  say  now 
that  I  would  rather  ride  on  a  swift  bronco 
any  day  than  try  to  stay  on  and  steady  a 
short  log  in  a  river.  I  never  knew  how  we 
managed  to  prevent  a  shipwreck  on  that 
voyage  and  to  reach  the  shore. 

We  had  many  curious  wild  pets.  There 
were  young  foxes,  bears,  wolves,  raccoons, 
fawns,  buffalo  calves  and  birds  of  all  kinds, 
tamed  by  various  boys.  My  pets  were 
different  at  different  times,  but  I  particularly 
remember  one.  I  once  had  a  grizzly  bear 
for  a  pet,  and  so  far  as  he  and  I  were  con 
cerned,  our  relations  were  charming  and 


36  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

very  close.  But  I  hardly  know  whether 
he  made  more  enemies  for  me  or  I  for  him. 
It  was  his  habit  to  treat  every  boy  un 
mercifully  who  injured  me. 


AN  INDIAN  BOY7S  TRAINING 

VERY  early,  the  Indian  boy  assumed 
the  task  of  preserving  and  trans 
mitting  the  legends  of  his  ancestors 
and  his  race.  Almost  every  evening  a  myth, 
or  a  true  story  of  some  deed  done  in  the  past, 
was  narrated  by  one  of  the  parents  or  grand 
parents,  while  the  boy  listened  with  parted 
lips  and  glistening  eyes.  On  the  following 
evening,  he  was  usually  required  to  repeat 
it.  If  he  was  not  an  apt  scholar,  he  strug 
gled  long  with  his  task;  but,  as  a  rule,  the 
Indian  boy  is  a  good  listener  and  has  a 
good  memory,  so  that  the  stories  were 
tolerably  well  mastered.  The  household 
became  his  audience,  by  which  he  was  alter 
nately  criticized  and  applauded. 
This  sort  of  teaching  at  once  enlightens 


38  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

the  boy's  mind  and  stimulates  his  ambition. 
His  conception  of  his  own  future  career 
becomes  a  vivid  and  irresistible  force. 
Whatever  there  is  for  him  to  learn  must 
be  learned;  whatever  qualifications  are 
necessary  to  a  truly  great  man  he  must  seek 
at  any  expense  of  danger  and  hardship. 
Such  was  the  feeling  of  the  imaginative 
and  brave  young  Indian.  It  became  ap 
parent  to  him  in  early  life  that  he  must 
accustom  himself  to  rove  alone  and  not 
to  fear  or  dislike  the  impression  of  solitude. 
It  seems  to  be  a  popular  idea  that  all 
the  characteristic  skill  of  the  Indian  is 
instinctive  and  hereditary.  This  is  a  mis 
take.  All  the  stoicism  and  patience  of 
the  Indian  are  acquired  traits,  and  con 
tinual  practice  alone  makes  him  master 
of  the  art  of  wood-craft.  Physical  training 
and  dieting  were  not  neglected.  I  remember 
that  I  was  not  allowed  to  have  beef  soup 
or  any  warm  drink.  The  soup  was  for  the 
old  men.  General  rules  for  the  young 


AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING  39 

were  never  to  take  their  food  very  hot, 
nor  to  drink  much  water.    *, 

My  uncle,  who  educated  me  up  to  the 
age  of  fifteen  years,  was  a  strict  disciplin 
arian  and  a  good  teacher.  When  I  left  the 
teepee  in  the  morning,  he  would  say: 
"  Hakadah,  look  closely  to  everything  you 
see  ";  and  at  evening,  on  my  return,  he  used 
often  to  catechize  me  for  an  hour  or  so. 

"  On  which  side  of  the  trees  is  the  lighter- 
colored  bark?  On  which  side  do  they  have 
most  regular  branches?  ' 

It  was  his  custom  to  let  me  name  all  the 
new  birds  that  I  had  seen  during  the  day. 
I  would  name  them  according  to  the  color 
or  the  shape  of  the  bill  or  their  song  or  the 
appearance  and  locality  of  the  nest  —  in 
fact,  anything  about  the  bird  that  im 
pressed  me  as  characteristic.  I  made  many 
ridiculous  errors,  I  must  admit.  He  then 
usually  informed  me  of  the  correct  name. 
Occasionally  I  made  a  hit  and  this  he  would 
warmly  commend. 


40  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

He  went  much  deeper  into  this  science 
when  I  was  a  little  older,  that  is,  about  the 
age  of  eight  or  nine  years.  He  would  say, 
for  instance: 

"  How  do  you  know  that  there  are  fish 
in  yonder  lake?  " 

"  Because  they  jump  out  of  the  water 
for  flies  at  mid-day." 

He  would  smile  at  my  prompt  but  super 
ficial  reply. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  little  pebbles 
grouped  together  under  the  shallow  water? 
and  what  made  the  pretty  curved  marks 
in  the  sandy  bottom  and  the  little  sand 
banks?  Where  do  you  find  the  fish-eating 
birds?  Have  the  inlet  and  the  outlet  of  a 
lake  anything  to  do  with  the  question?  " 

He  did  not  expect  a  correct  reply  at  once 
to  all  the  questions  that  he  put  to  me  on 
these  occasions,  but  he  meant  to  make  me 
observant  and  a  good  student  of  nature. 

"  Hakadah,"  he  would  say  to  me,  "  you 
ought  to  follow  the  example  of  the  shunk- 


AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING  41 

tokecha  (wolf).  Even  when  he  is  surprised 
and  runs  for  his  life,  he  will  pause  to  take 
one  more  look  at  you  before  he  enters 
his  final  retreat.  So  you  must  take  a  second 
look  at  everything  you  see. 

"  It  is  better  to  view  animals  unob 
served.  I  have  been  a  witness  to  their 
courtships  and  their  quarrels  and  have 
learned  many  of  their  secrets  in  this  way. 
I  was  once  the  unseen  spectator  of  a 
thrilling  battle  between  a  pair  of  grizzly 
bears  and  three  buffaloes  —  a  rash  act 
for  the  bears,  for  it  was  in  the  moon  of 
strawberries,  when  the  buffaloes  sharpen 
and  polish  their  horns  for  bloody  contests 
among  themselves. 

"  I  advise  you,  my  boy,  never  to  ap 
proach  a  grizzly's  den  from  the  front,  but 
to  steal  up  behind  and  throw  your  blanket 
or  a  stone  in  front  of  the  hole.  He  does 
not  usually  rush  for  it,  but  first  puts  his 
head  out  and  listens  and  then  comes  out 
very  indifferently  and  sits  on  his  haunches 


42  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

on  the  mound  in  front  of  the  hole  before 
he  makes  any  attack.  While  he  is  exposing 
himself  in  this  fashion,  aim  at  his  heart. 
Always  be  as  cool  as  the  animal  himself." 
Thus  he  armed  me  against  the  cunning  of 
savage  beasts  by  teaching  me  how  to  out 
wit  them. 

"  In  hunting,"  he  would  resume,  "  you 
will  be  guided  by  the  habits  of  the  animal 
you  seek.  Remember  that  a  moose  stays 
in  swampy  or  low  land  or  between  high 
mountains  near  a  spring  or  lake,  for  thirty 
to  sixty  days  at  a  time.  Most  large  game 
moves  about  continually,  except  the  doe 
in  the  spring;  it  is  then  a  very  easy  matter 
to  find  her  with  the  fawn.  Conceal  your 
self  in  a  convenient  place  as  soon  as  you 
observe  any  signs  of  the  presence  of  either, 
and  then  call  with  your  birchen  doe-caller. 

"  Whichever  one  hears  you  first  will 
soon  appear  in  your  neighborhood.  But 
you  must  be  very  watchful,  or  you  may  be 
made  a  fawn  of  by  a  large  wild-cat.  They 


AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING  43 

understand  the  characteristic  call  of  the 
doe  perfectly  well. 

"  When  you  have  any  difficulty  with  a 
bear  or  a  wild-cat  —  that  is,  if  the  creature 
shows  any  signs  of  attacking  you  —  you 
must  make  him  fully  understand  that  you 
have  seen  him  and  are  aware  of  his  inten 
tions.  If  you  are  not  well  equipped  for  a 
pitched  battle,  the  only  way  to  make  him 
retreat  is  to  take  a  long  sharp-pointed  pole 
for  a  spear  and  rush  toward  him.  No  wild 
beast  will  face  this  unless  he  is  cornered 
and  already  wounded.  These  fierce  beasts 
are  generally  afraid  of  the  common  weapon 
of  the  larger  animals,  —  the  horns,  —  and  if 
these  are  very  long  and  sharp,  they  dare  not 
risk  an  open  fight. 

"  There  is  one  exception  to  this  rule  — 
the  gray  wolf  will  attack  fiercely  when  very- 
hungry.  But  their  courage  depends  upon 
their  numbers;  in  this  they  are  like  white 
men.  One  wolf  or  two  will  never  attack 
a  man.  They  will  stampede  a  herd  of 


44  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

buffaloes  in  order  to  get  at  the  calves; 
they  will  rush  upon  a  herd  of  antelopes, 
for  these  are  helpless;  but  they  are  always 
careful  about  attacking  man/' 

Of  this  nature  were  the  instructions  of 
my  uncle,  who  was  widely  known  at  that 
time  as  among  the  greatest  hunters  of 
his  tribe. 

All  boys  were  expected  to  endure  hard 
ship  without  complaint.  In  savage  war 
fare,  a  young  man  must,  of  course,  be  an 
athlete  and  used  to  undergoing  all  sorts 
of  privations.  He  must  be  able  to  go  with 
out  food  and  water  for  two  or  three  days 
without  displaying  any  weakness,  or  to  run 
for  a  day  and  a  night  without  any  rest.  He 
must  be  able  to  traverse  a  pathless  and  wild 
country  without  losing  his  way  either  in 
the  day  or  night  time.  He  cannot  refuse 
to  do  any  of  these  things  if  he  aspires  to  be 
a  warrior. 

Sometimes  my  uncle  would  waken  me 
very  early  in  the  morning  and  challenge  me 


AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING  45 

to  fast  with  him  all  day.  I  had  to  accept 
the  challenge.  We  blackened  our  faces  with 
charcoal,  so  that  every  boy  in  the  village 
would  know  that  I  was  fasting  for  the  day. 
Then  the  little  tempters  would  make  my 
life  a  misery  until  the  merciful  sun  hid  be 
hind  the  western  hills. 

I  can  scarcely  recall  the  time  when  my 
stern  teacher  began  to  give  sudden  war- 
whoops  over  my  head  in  the  morning  while 
I  was  sound  asleep.  He  expected  me  to  leap 
up  with  perfect  presence  of  mind,  always 
ready  to  grasp  a  weapon  of  some  sort  and 
to  give  a  shrill  whoop  in  reply.  If  I  was 
sleepy  or  startled  and  hardly  knew  what  I 
was  about,  he  would  ridicule  me  and  say 
that  I  need  never  expect  to  sell  my  scalp 
dear.  Often  he  would  vary  these  tactics 
by  shooting  off  his  gun  just  outside  of  the 
lodge  while  I  was  yet  asleep,  at  the  same 
time  giving  blood-curdling  yells.  After  a 
time  I  became  used  to  this. 

When  Indians  went  upon  the  war-path, 


46  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

it  was  their  custom  to  try  the  new  warriors 
thoroughly  before  coming  to  an  engagement. 
For  instance,  when  they  were  near  a  hos 
tile  camp,  they  would  select  the  novices  to 
go  after  the  water  and  make  them  do  all 
sorts  of  things  to  prove  their  courage.  In 
accordance  with  this  idea,  my  uncle  used 
to  send  me  off  after  water  when  we  camped 
after  dark  in  a  strange  place.  Perhaps  the 
country  was  full  of  wild  beasts,  and,  for 
aught  I  knew,  there  might  be  scouts  from 
hostile  bands  of  Indians  lurking  in  that  very 
neighborhood. 

Yet  I  never  objected,  for  that  would 
show  cowardice.  I  picked  my  way  through 
the  woods,  dipped  my  pail  in  the  water  and 
hurried  back,  always  careful  to  make  as 
little  noise  as  a  cat.  Being  only  a  boy, 
my  heart  would  leap  at  every  crackling  of 
a  dry  twig  or  distant  hooting  of  an  owl, 
until,  at  last,  I  reached  our  teepee.  Then 
my  uncle  would  perhaps  say:  "  Ah,  Haka- 
dah,  you  are  a  thorough  warrior!"  empty 


AN  INDIAN  BOY'S  TRAINING  47 

out  the  precious  contents  of  the  pail,  and 
order  me  to  go  a  second  time. 

Imagine  how  I  felt!  But  I  wished  to  be 
a  brave  man  as  much  as  a  white  boy  desires 
to  be  a  great  lawyer  or  even  President  of 
the  United  States.  Silently  I  would  take 
the  pail  and  endeavor  to  retrace  my  foot 
steps  in  the  dark. 

With  all  this,  our  manners  and  morals 
were  not  neglected.  I  was  made  to  respect 
the  adults  and  especially  the  aged.  I  was 
not  allowed  to  join  in  their  discussions, 
nor  even  to  speak  in  their  presence,  unless 
requested  to  do  so.  Indian  etiquette  was 
very  strict,  and  among  the  requirements 
was  that  of  avoiding  the  direct  address. 
A  term  of  relationship  or  some  title  of 
courtesy  was  commonly  used  instead  of  the 
personal  name  by  those  who  wished  to 
show  respect.  We  were  taught  generosity 
to  the  poor  and  reverence  for  the  "  Great 
Mystery."  Religion  was  the  basis  of  all 
Indian  training. 


VI 

THE   BOY  HUNTER 


i 


\EERE  was  almost  as  much  dif 
ference  between  the  Indian  boys 
who  were  brought  up  on  the  open 
prairies  and  those  of  the  woods,  as  between 
city  and  country  boys.  The  hunting  of  the 
prairie  boys  was  limited  and  their  knowl 
edge  of  natural  history  imperfect.  They 
were,  as  a  rule,  good  riders,  but  in  all-round 
physical  development  much  inferior  to  the 
red  men  of  the  forest. 

Our  hunting  varied  with  the  season  of 
the  year,  and  the  nature  of  the  country 
which  was  for  the  time  our  home.  Our 
chief  weapon  was  the  bow  and  arrows,  and 
perhaps,  if  we  were  lucky,  a  knife  was 
possessed  by  some  one  in  the  crowd.  In 


THE  BOY  HUNTER  49 

the  olden  times,  knives  and  hatchets  were 
made  from  bone  and  sharp  stones. 

For  fire  we  used  a  flint  with  a  spongy 
piece  of  dry  wood  and  a  stone  to  strike 
with.  Another  way  of  starting  fire  was  for 
several  of  the  boys  to  sit  down  in  a  circle 
and  rub  two  pieces  of  dry,  spongy  wood 
together,  one  after  another,  until  the  wood 
took  fire. 

We  hunted  in  company  a  great  deal, 
though  it  was  a  common  thing  for  a  boy 
to  set  out  for  the  woods  quite  alone,  and 
he  usually  enjoyed  himself  fully  as  much. 
Our  game  consisted  mainly  of  small  birds, 
rabbits,  squirrels  and  grouse.  Fishing, 
too,  occupied  much  of  our  time.  We  hardly 
ever  passed  a  creek  or  a  pond  without 
searching  for  some  signs  of  fish.  When 
fish  were  present,  we  always  managed  to  get 
some.  Fish-lines  were  made  of  wild  hemp, 
sinew  or  horse-hair.  We  either  caught 
fish  with  lines,  snared  or  speared  them,  or 
shot  them  with  bow  and  arrows.  IB  the 


50  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

fall  we  charmed  them  up  to  the  surface  by 
gently  tickling  them  with  a  stick  and 
quickly  threw  them  out.  We  have  some 
times  dammed  the  brooks  and  driven  the 
larger  fish  into  a  willow  basket  made  for 
that  purpose. 

It  was  part  of  our  hunting  to  find  new  and 
strange  things  in  the  woods.  We  examined 
the  slightest  sign  of  life;  and  if  a  bird  had 
scratched  the  leaves  off  the  ground,  or  a 
bear  dragged  up  a  root  for  his  morning 
meal,  we  stopped  to  speculate  on  the  time 
it  was  done.  If  we  saw  a  large  old  tree  with 
some  scratches  on  its  bark,  we  concluded 
that  a  bear  or  some  raccoons  must  be  living 
there.  In  that  case  we  did  not  go  any  nearer 
than  was  necessary,  but  later  reported 
the  incident  at  home.  An  old  deer-track 
would  at  once  bring  on  a  warm  discussion 
as  to  whether  it  was  the  track  of  a  buck 
or  a  doe.  Generally,  at  noon,  we  met  and 
compared  our  game,  noting  at  the  same 
time  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  every- 


THE  BOY  HUNTER  5l 

thing  we  had  killed.  It  was  not  merely 
a  hunt,  for  we  combined  with  it  the  study 
of  animal  life.  We  also  kept  strict  account 
of  our  game,  and  thus  learned  who  were 
the  best  shots  among  the  boys. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  we  were  merciless 
toward  the  birds.  We  often  took  their 
eggs  and  their  young  ones.  My  brother 
Chatanna  and  I  once  had  a  disagreeable 
adventure  while  bird-hunting.  We  were 
accustomed  to  catch  in  our  hands  young 
ducks  and  geese  during  the  summer,  and 
while  doing  this  we  happened  to  find  a 
crane's  nest.  Of  course,  we  were  delighted 
with  our  good  luck.  But,  as  it  was  already 
midsummer,  the  young  cranes  —  two  in 
number  —  were  rather  large  and  they  were 
a  little  way  from  the  nest;  we  also  observed 
that  the  two  old  cranes  were  in  a  swampy 
place  near  by;  but,  as  it  was  moulting- 
time,  we  did  not  suppose  that  they  would 
venture  on  dry  land.  So  we  proceeded 
to  chase  the  young  birds;  but  they  were 


52  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

fleet  runners  and  it  took  us  some  time  to 
come  up  with  them. 

Meanwhile,  the  parent  birds  had  heard 
the  cries  of  their  little  ones  and  come  to 
their  rescue.  They  were  chasing  us,  while 
we  followed  the  birds.  It  was  really  a 
perilous  encounter!  Our  strong  bows  finally 
gained  the  victory  in  a  hand-to-hand 
struggle  with  the  angry  cranes;  but  after 
that  we  hardly  ever  hunted  a  crane's  nest. 
Almost  all  birds  make  some  resistance 
when  their  eggs  or  young  are  taken,  but  they 
will  seldom  attack  man  fearlessly. 

We  used  to  climb  large  trees  for  birds 
of  all  kinds;  but  we  never  undertook  to 
get  young  owls  unless  they  were  on  the 
ground.  The  hooting  owl  Especially  is  a 
dangerous  bird  to  attack  under  these  cir 
cumstances. 

I  was  once  trying  to  catch  a  yellow-winged 
woodpecker  in  its  nest  when  my  arm  be 
came  twisted  and  lodged  in  the  deep  hole 
so  that  I  could  not  get  it  out  without  the 


THE  BOY  HUNTER  53 

aid  of  a  knife;  but  we  were  a  long  way  from 
home  and  my  only  companion  was  a  deaf- 
mute  cousin  of  mine.  I  was  about  fifty 
feet  up  in  the  tree,  in  a  very  uncomfortable 
position,  but  I  had  to  wait  there  for  more 
than  an  hour  before  he  brought  me  the  knife 
with  which  I  finally  released  myself. 

Our  devices  for  trapping  small  animals 
were  rude,  but  they  were  often  successful. 
For  instance,  we  used  to  gather  up  a  peck 
or  so  of  large,  sharp-pointed  burrs  and 
scatter  them  in  the  rabbit 's  furrow-like 
path.  In  the  morning,  we  would  find  the 
little  fellow  sitting  quietly  in  his  tracks,  un 
able  to  move,  for  the  burrs  stuck  to  his 
feet. 

Another  way  of  snaring  rabbits  and 
grouse  was  the  following:  We  made  nooses 
of  twisted  horse-hair,  which  we  tied  very 
firmly  to  the  top  of  a  limber  young  tree, 
then  bent  the  latter  down  to  the  track  and 
fastened  the  whole  with  a  slip-knot,  after 
adjusting  the  noose.  When  the  rabbit 


54  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

runs  his  head  through  the  noose,  he  pulls 
the  slip-knot  and  is  quickly  carried  up  by 
the  spring  of  the  young  tree.  This  is  a  good 
plan,  for  the  rabbit  is  out  of  harm's  way  as 
he  swings  high  in  the  air. 

Perhaps  the  most  enjoyable  of  all  was 
the  chipmunk  hunt.  We  killed  these  ani 
mals  at  any  time  of  year,  but  the  special 
time  to  hunt  them  was  in  March.  After 
the  first  thaw,  the  chipmunks  burrow  a 
hole  through  the  snow  crust  and  make 
their  first  appearance  for  the  season.  Some 
times  as  many  as  fifty  will  come  together 
and  hold  a  social  reunion.  These  gather 
ings  occur  early  in  the  morning,  from  day 
break  to  about  nine  o'clock. 

We  boys  learned  this,  among  other 
secrets  of  nature,  and  got  our  blunt- 
headed  arrows  together  in  good  season  for 
the  chipmunk  expedition. 

We  generally  went  in  groups  of  six  to  a 
dozen  or  fifteen,  to  see  which  would  get 
the  most.  On  the  evening  before,  we  se- 


THE  BOY  HUNTER  55 

lected  several  boys  who  could  imitate  the 
chipmunk's  call  with  wild  oat-straws  and 
each  of  these  provided  himself  with  a 
supply  of  straws. 

The  crust  will  hold  the  boys  nicely  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  Bright  and  early, 
they  all  come  together  at  the  appointed 
place,  from  which  each  group  starts  out 
in  a  different  direction,  agreeing  to  meet 
somewhere  at  a  given  position  of  the  sun. 

My  first  experience  of  this  kind  is  still 
well  remembered.  It  was  a  fine  crisp 
March  morning,  and  the  sun  had  not  yet 
shown  himself  among  the  distant  tree-tops 
as  we  hurried  along  through  the  ghostly 
wood.  Presently  we  arrived  at  a  place 
where  there  were  many  signs  of  the  ani 
mals.  Then  each  of  us  selected  a  tree  and 
took  up  his  position  behind  it.  The  chip 
munk-caller  sat  upon  a  log  as  motionless 
as  he  could,  and  began  to  call. 

Soon  we  heard  the  patter  of  little  feet 
on  the  hard  snow;  then  we  saw  the  chip- 


56  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

munks  approaching  from  all  directions. 
Some  stopped  and  ran  experimentally  up 
a  tree  or  a  log,  as  if  uncertain  of  the  exact 
direction  of  the  call;  others  chased  one 
another  about. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  chipmunk-caller 
was  besieged  with  them.  Some  ran  all 
over  his  person,  others  under  him  and  still 
others  ran  up  the  tree  against  which  he 
was  sitting.  Each  boy  remained  immovable 
until  their  leader  gave  the  signal;  then 
a  great  shout  arose,  and  the  Chipmunks 
in  their  flight  all  ran  up  the  different  trees. 

Now  the  shooting-match  began.  The 
little  creatures  seemed  to  realize  their 
hopeless  position;  they  would  try  again  and 
again  to  come  down  the  trees  and  flee  away 
from  the  deadly  aim  of  the  youthful  hunters. 
But  they  were  shot  down  very  fast;  and 
whenever  several  of  them  rushed  toward 
the  ground,  the  little  redskin  hugged  the 
tree  and  yelled  frantically  to  scare  them  up 
again. 


THE  BOY  HUNTER  57 

Each  boy  shoots  always  against  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  so  that  the  arrow  may 
bound  back  to  him  every  time;  otherwise, 
when  he  had  shot  away  all  of  them,  he 
would  be  helpless,  and  another,  who  had 
cleared  his  own  tree,  would  come  and  take 
away  his  game,  so  there  was  warm  competi 
tion.  Sometimes  a  desperate  chipmunk 
would  jump  from  the  top  of  the  tree  in 
order  to  escape,  which  was  considered  a 
joke  on  the  boy  who  lost  it  and  a  triumph 
for  the  brave  little  animal.  At  last  all  were 
killed  or  gone,  and  then  we  went  on  to  an 
other  place,  keeping  up  the  sport  until  the 
sun  came  out  and  the  chipmunks  refused  to 
answer  the  call. 


VII 

EVENING   IN   THE   LODGE 

I  HAD  been  skating  on  that  part  of 
the  lake  where  there  was  an  over 
flow,  and  came  home  somewhat  cold. 
I  cannot  say  just  how  cold  it  was,  but  it 
must  have  been  intensely  so,  for  the  trees 
were  cracking  all  about  me  like  pistol- 
shots.  I  did  not  mind,  because  I  was 
wrapped  up  in  my  buffalo  robe  with  the  hair 
inside,  and  a  wide  leather  belt  held  it 
about  my  loins.  My  skates  were  nothing 
more  than  strips  of  basswood  bark  bound 
upon  my  feet. 

I   had   taken   off  my  frozen   moccasins 
and  put  on  dry  ones  in  their  places. 

"  Where  have  you  been  and  what  have 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  59 

you  been  doing?  "  Uncheedah  asked  as  she 
placed  before  me  some  roast  venison  in 
a  wooden  bowl.  "  Did  you  see  any  tracks 
of  moose  or  bear?  " 

"  No,  grandmother,  I  have  only  been 
playing  at  the  lower  end  of  the  lake.  I 
have  something  to  ask  you,"  I  said,  eating 
my  dinner  and  supper  together  with  all 
the  relish  of  a  hungry  boy  who  has  been 
skating  in  the  cold  for  half  a  day. 

"  I  found  this  feather,  grandmother,  and 
I  could  not  make  out  what  tribe  wear 
feathers  in  that  shape." 

"  Ugh,  I  am  not  a  man;  you  had  better 
ask  your  uncle.  Besides,  you  should  know 
it  yourself  by  this  time.  You  are  now  old 
enough  to  think  about  eagle  feathers." 

I  felt  mortified  by  this  reminder  of  my 
ignorance.  It  seemed  a  reflection  on  me 
that  I  was  not  ambitious  enough  to  have 
found  all  such  matters  out  before. 

"  Uncle,  you  will  tell  me,  won't  you?  " 
I  said,  in  an  appealing  tone. 


60  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

"  I  am  surprised,  my  boy,  that  you 
should  fail  to  recognize  this  feather.  It 
is  a  Cree  medicine  feather,  and  not  a 
warrior's." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  with  much  embarrass 
ment,  "  you  had  better  tell  me  again,  uncle, 
the  language  of  the  feathers.  I  have  really 
forgotten  it  all." 

The  day  was  now  gone;  the  moon  had 
risen;  but  the  cold  had  not  lessened,  for 
the  trunks  of  the  trees  were  still  snapping 
all  around  our  teepee,  which  was  lighted 
and  warmed  by  the  immense  logs  which 
Uncheedah's  industry  had  provided.  My 
uncle,  White  Footprint,  now  undertook 
to  explain  to  me  the  significance  of  the 
eagle's  feather. 

"  The  eagle  is  the  most  war-like  bird," 
he  began,  "  and  the  most  kingly  of  all 
birds;  besides,  his  feathers  are  unlike  any 
others,  and  these  are  the  reasons  why  they 
are  used  by  our  people  to  signify  deeds  of 
bravery. 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  61 

"  It  is  not  true  that  when  a  man  wears 
a  feather  bonnet,  each  one  of  the  feathers 
represents  the  killing  of  a  foe  or  even  a 
coup.  When  a  man  wears  an  eagle  feather 
upright  upon  his  head,  he  is  supposed  to 
have  counted  one  of  four  coups  upon  his 
enemy." 

"  Well,  then,  a  coup  does  not  mean  the 
killing  of  an  enemy?  ' 

"  No,  it  is  the  after-stroke  or  touching 
of  the  body  after  he  falls.  It  is  so  ordered, 
because  oftentimes  the  touching  of  an 
enemy  is  much  more  difficult  to  accomplish 
than  the  shooting  of  one  from  a  distance. 
It  requires  a  strong  heart  to  face  the  whole 
body  of  the  enemy,  in  order  to  count  the 
coup  on  the  fallen  one,  who  lies  under 
cover  of  his  kinsmen's  fire.  Many  a 
brave  man  has  been  lost  in  the  attempt. 

"  When  a  warrior  approaches  his  foe, 
dead  or  alive,  he  calls  upon  the  other 
warriors  to  witness  by  saying:  '  I,  Fear 
less  Bear,  your  brave,  again  perform  the 


62  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

brave  deed  of  counting  the  first  (or  second 
or  third  or  fourth)  coup  upon  the  body  of 
the  bravest  of  your  enemies/  Naturally, 
those  who  are  present  will  see  the  act  and 
be  able  to  testify  to  it.  When  they  return, 
the  heralds,  as  you  know,  announce  pub 
licly  all  such  deeds  of  valor,  which  then 
become  a  part  of  the  man's  war  record.  Any 
brave  who  would  wear  the  eagle's  feather 
must  give  proof  of  his  right  to  do  so. 

"  When  a  brave  is  wounded  in  the  same 
battle  where  he  counted  his  coup,  he  wears 
the  feather  hanging  downward.  When  he 
is  wounded,  but  makes  no  count,  he  trims 
his  feather,  and  in  that  case  it  need  not  be 
an  eagle  feather.  All  other  feathers  are 
merely  ornaments.  When  a  warrior  wears 
a  feather  with  a  round  mark,  it  means 
that  he  slew  his  enemy.  When  the  mark 
is  cut  into  the  feather  and  painted  red,  it 
means  that  he  took  the 'scalp. 

"  A  brave  who  has  been  successful  in 
ten  battles  is  entitled  to  a  war-bonnet; 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  63 

and  if  he  is  a  recognized  leader,  he  is  per 
mitted  to  wear  one  with  long,  trailing 
plumes.  Also  those  who  have  counted 
many  coups  may  tip  the  ends  of  the  feath 
ers  with  bits  of  white  or  colored  down. 
Sometimes  the  eagle  feather  is  tipped  with 
a  strip  of  weasel  skin;  that  means  the 
wearer  had  the  honor  of  killing,  scalping  and 
counting  the  first  coup  upon  the  enemy  all 
at  the  same  time. 

"  This  feather  you  have  found  was  worn 
by  a  Cree  —  it  is  indiscriminately  painted. 
All  other  feathers  worn  by  the  common 
Indians  mean  nothing,"  he  added. 

"  Tell  me,  uncle,  whether  it  would  be 
proper  for  me  to  wear  any  feathers  at  all 
if  I  have  never  gone  upon  the  war-path." 

"  You  could  wear  any  other  kind  of 
feathers,  but  not  an  eagle's,"  replied  my 
uncle,  "  although  sometimes  one  is  worn 
on  great  occasions  by  the  child  of  a  noted 
man,  to  indicate  the  father's  dignity  and 
position." 


64  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

The  fire  had  gone  down  somewhat,  so 
I  pushed  the  embers  together  and  wrapped 
my  robe  more  closely  about  me.  Now  and 
then  the  ice  on  the  lake  would  burst  with  a 
loud  report  like  thunder.  Uncheedah  was 
busy  re-stringing  one  of  uncle's  old  snow- 
shoes.  There  were  two  different  kinds 
that  he  wore;  one  with  a  straight  toe  and 
long;  the  other  shorter  and  with  an  up 
turned  toe.  She  had  one  of  the  shoes 
fastened  toe  down,  between  sticks  driven 
into  the  ground,  while  she  put  in  some  new 
strings  and  tightened  the  others.  Aunt 
Four  Stars  was  beading  a  new  pair  of 
moccasins. 

Wabeda,  the  dog,  the  companion  of  my 
boyhood  days,  was  in  trouble  because  he 
insisted  upon  bringing  his  extra  bone  into 
the  teepee,  while  Uncheedah  was  deter 
mined  that  he  should  not.  I  sympathized 
with  him,  because  I  saw  the  matter  as  he 
did.  If  he  should  bury  it  in  the  snow  out 
side,  I  knew  Shunktokecha  (the  coyote) 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  65 

would  surely  steal  it.  I  knew  just  how 
anxious  Wabeda  was  about  his  bone.  It 
was  a  fat  bone  —  I  mean  a  bone  of  a  fat 
deer;  and  all  Indians  know  how  much  better 
they  are  than  the  other  kind. 

Wabeda  always  hated  to  see  a  good 
thing  go  to  waste.  His  eyes  spoke  words 
to  me,  for  he  and  I  had  been  friends  for  a 
long  time.  When  I  was  afraid  of  anything 
in  the  woods,  he  would  get  in  front  of  me 
at  once  and  gently  wag  his  tail.  He  always 
made  it  a  point  to  look  directly  in  my  face. 
His  kind,  large  eyes  gave  me  a  thousand 
assurances.  When  I  was  perplexed,  he 
would  hang  about  me  until  he  understood 
the  situation.  Many  times  I  believed  he 
saved  my  life  by  uttering  the  dog  word  in 
time. 

Most  animals,  even  the  dangerous  grizzly, 
do  not  care  to  be  seen  when  the  two-legged 
kind  and  his  dog  are  about.  When  I  feared 
a  surprise  by  a  bear  or  a  gray  wolf,  I  would 
say  to  Wabeda:  "  Now,  my  dog,  give 


66  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

your  war-whoop!"  and  immediately  he 
would  sit  up  on  his  haunches  and  bark 
"  to  beat  the  band/'  as  you  white  boys 
say.  When  a  bear  or  wolf  heard  the  noise, 
he  would  be  apt  to  retreat. 

Sometimes  I  helped  Wabeda  and  gave 
a  war-whoop  of  my  own.  This  drove  the 
deer  away  as  well,  but  it  relieved  my  mind. 

When  he  appealed  to  me  on  this  oc 
casion,  therefore,  I  said:  "  Come,  my  dog, 
let  us  bury  your  bone  so  that  no  Shunk- 
tokecha  will  take  it." 

He  appeared  satisfied  with  my  suggestion, 
so  we  went  out  together. 

We  dug  in  the  snow  and  buried  our  bone 
wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  old  blanket, 
partly  burned;  then  we  covered  it  up 
again  with  snow.  We  knew  that  the 
coyote  would  not  touch  anything  burnt. 
I  did  not  put  it  up  a  tree  because  Wabeda 
always  objected  to  that,  and  I  made  it  a 
point  to  consult  his  wishes  whenever  I 
could. 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  67 

I  came  in  and  Wabeda  followed  me  with 
two  short  rib  bones  in  his  mouth.  Ap 
parently  he  did  not  care  to  risk  those  deli 
cacies. 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Uncheedah,  "  you 
still  insist  upon  bringing  in  some  sort  of 
bone! "  but  I  begged  her  to  let  him  gnaw 
them  inside  because  it  was  so  cold.  Having 
been  granted  this  privilege,  he  settled  him 
self  at  my  back  and  I  became  absorbed 
in  some  specially  nice  arrows  that  uncle 
was  making. 

"  Oh,  uncle,  you  must  put  on  three  feathers 
to  all  of  them  so  that  they  can  fly  straight," 
I  suggested. 

"  Yes,  but  if  there  are  only  two  feathers, 
they  will  fly  faster,"  he  answered. 

"  Woow! "  Wabeda  uttered  his  suspi 
cions. 

"  Woow!  "  he  said  again,  and  rushed  for 
the  entrance  of  the  teepee.  He  kicked  me 
over  as  he  went  and  scattered  the  burning 
embers. 


68  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 


"  En  na  he  na! "  Uncheedah  exclaimed, 
but  he  was  already  outside. 

"  Wow,  wow,  wow!  Wow,  wow,  wow!  " 

A   deep   guttural   voice   answered   him. 

Out  I  rushed  with  my  bow  and  arrows 
in  my  hand. 

"  Come,  uncle,  come!  A  big  cinnamon 
bear!  "  I  shouted  as  I  emerged  from  the 
teepee. 

Uncle  sprang  out,  and  in  a  moment  he 
had  sent  a  swift  arrow  through  the  bear's 
heart.  The  animal  fell  dead.  He  had  just 
begun  to  dig  up  Wabeda's  bone,  when  the 
dog's  quick  ear  had  heard  the  sound. 

"  Ah,  uncle,  Wabeda  and  I  ought  to 
have  at  least  a  little  eaglet's  feather  for  this! 
I  too  sent  my  small  arrow  into  the  bear 
before  he  fell,"  I  exclaimed.  "But  I 
thought  all  bears  ought  to  be  in  their 
lodges  in  the  winter  time.  What  was  this 
one  doing  at  this  time  of  the  year  and 
night?  " 

"Well,"    said   my    uncle,  "I    wiU    tell 


"  Oh,  what  nice  claws  he  has,  uncle!  "  I  exclaimed  eagerly. 
Page  69. 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  69 

you.  Among  the  tribes,  some  are  naturally 
lazy.  The  cinnamon  bear  is  the  lazy  one 
of  his  tribe.  He  alone  sleeps  out  of  doors 
in  the  winter,  and  because  he  has  not  a 
warm  bed,  he  is  soon  hungry.  Sometimes 
he  lives  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  a  tree,  where 
he  has  made  a  bed  of  dry  grass;  but  when 
the  night  is  very  cold,  like  to-night,  he  has 
to  move  about  to  keep  himself  from  freezing, 
and  as  he  prowls  around,  he  gets  hungry/' 

We  dragged  the  huge  carcass  within 
our  lodge.  "  Oh,  what  nice  claws  he  has, 
uncle! "  I  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  Can  I 
have  them  for  my  necklace?  ' 

"It  is  only  the  old  medicine-men  who 
wear  them  regularly.  The  son  of  a  great 
warrior  who  has  killed  a-  grizzly  may  wear 
them  upon  a  public  occasion,"  he  explained. 

"  And  you  are  just  like  my  father  and  are 
considered  the  best  hunter  among  the  San- 
tees  and  Sissetons.  You  have  killed  many 
grizzlies,  so  that  no  one  can  object  to  my 
beards-claw  necklace,"  I  said  appealingly. 


70  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

White  Foot-print  smiled.  "  My  boy, 
you  shall  have  them,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is 
always  better  to  earn  them  yourself." 
He  cut  the  claws  off  carefully  for  my 
use. 

"  Tell  me,  uncle,  whether  you  could  wear 
these  claws  all  the  time?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am  entitled  to  wear  them,  but 
they  are  so  heavy  and  uncomfortable," 
he  replied,  with  a  superior  air. 

At  last  the  bear  had  been  skinned  and 
dressed  and  we  all  resumed  our  usual 
places.  Uncheedah  was  particularly  pleased 
to  have  some  more  fat  for  her  cooking. 

"  Now,  grandmother,  tell  me  the  story 
of  the  bear's  fat.  I  shall  be  so  happy  if 
you  will,"  I  begged. 

"  It  is  a  good  story  and  it  is  true.  You 
should  know  it  by  heart  and  gain  a  lesson 
from  it,"  she  replied.  "  It  was  in  the 
forests  of  Minnesota,  in  the  country  that 
now  belongs  to  the  Ojibways.  From  the 
Bedawakanton  Sioux  village  a  young  mar- 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  71 

ried  couple  went  into  the  woods  to  get 
fresh  venison.  The  snow  was  deep;  the 
ice  was  thick.  Far  away  in  the  woods  they 
pitched  their  lonely  teepee.  The  young 
man  was  a  well-known  hunter  and  his 
wife  a  good  maiden  of  the  village. 

"  He  hunted  entirely  on  snow-shoes, 
because  the  snow  was  very  deep.  His  wife 
had  to  wear  snow-shoes  too,  to  get  to  the 
spot  where  they  pitched  their  tent.  It 
was  thawing  the  day  they  went  out,  so 
their  path  was  distinct  after  the  freeze 
came  again. 

"  The  young  man  killed  many  deer  and 
bears.  His  wife  was  very  busy  curing  the 
meat  and  trying  out  the  fat  while  he  was 
away  hunting  each  day.  In  the  evenings 
she  kept  on  trying  the  fat.  He  sat  on  one 
side  of  the  teepee  and  she  on  the  other. 

"  One  evening,  she  had  just  lowered  a 
kettle  of  fat  to  cool,  and  as  she  looked  into 
the  hot  fat  she  saw  the  face  of  an  0 jib- 
way  scout  looking  down  at  them  through 


72  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

the  smoke-hole.  She  said  nothing,  nor 
did  she  betray  herself  in  any  way. 

"  After  a  little  she  said  to  her  husband 
in  a  natural  voice:  '  Marpeetopah,  some 
one  is  looking  at  us  through  the  smoke- 
hole,  and  I  think  it  is  an  enemy 's  scout.' 

"  Then  Marpeetopah  (Four-skies)  took 
up  his  bow  and  arrows  and  began  to 
straighten  and  dry  them  for  the  next  day's 
hunt,  talking  and  laughing  meanwhile. 
Suddenly  he  turned  and  sent  an  arrow  up 
ward,  killing  the  Ojibway,  who  fell  dead 
at  their  door. 

"  '  Quick,  Wadutah! '  he  exclaimed;  '  you 
must  hurry  home  upon  our  trail.  I  will 
stay  here.  When  this  scout  does  not  re 
turn,  the  war-party  may  come  in  a  body 
or  send  another  scout.  If  only  one  comes, 
I  can  soon  dispatch  him  and  then  I  will 
follow  you.  If  I  do  not  do  that,  they  will 
overtake  us  in  our  flight.' 

"  Wadutah  (Scarlet)  protested  and  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  stay  with  her  husband,  but 


EVENING  IN  THE  LODGE  73 

at  last  she  came  away  to  get  re-inforce- 
ments. 

"  Then  Marpeetopah  (Four-skies)  put 
more  sticks  on  the  fire  so  that  the  teepee 
might  be  brightly  lit  and  show  him  the  way. 
He  then  took  the  scalp  of  the  enemy  and 
proceeded  on  his  track,  until  he  came  to 
the  upturned  root  of  a  great  tree.  There 
he  spread  out  his  arrows  and  laid  out  his 
tomahawk. 

"  Soon  two  more  scouts  were  sent  by  the 
Ojibway  war-party  to  see  what  was  the 
trouble  and  why  the  first  one  failed  to 
come  back.  He  heard  them  as  they  ap 
proached.  They  were  on  snow-shoes.  When 
they  came  close  to  him,  he  shot  an  arrow 
into  the  foremost.  As  for  the  other,  in  his 
effort  to  turn  quickly  his  snow-shoes  stuck 
in  the  deep  snow  and  detained  him,  so 
Marpeetopah  killed  them  both. 

"  Quickly  he  took  the  scalps  and  followed 
Wadutah.  He  ran  hard.  But  the  Ojib- 
ways  suspected  something  wrong  and  came 


74  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

to  the  lonely  teepee,  to  find  all  their  scouts 
had  been  killed.  They  followed  the  path 
of  Marpeetopah  and  Wadutah  to  the  main 
village,  and  there  a  great  battle  was  fought 
on  the  ice.  Many  were  killed  on  both 
sides.  It  was  after  this  that  the  Sioux 
moved  to  the  Mississippi  river." 

I  was  sleepy  by  this  time  and  I  rolled 
myself  up  in  my  buffalo  robe  and  fell 
asleep. 


PART   TWO 

STOEIES  OF  REAL  INDIANS 

I 

WINONA'S  CHILDHOOD 

Hush,  hushaby,  little  woman! 
Be  brave  and  weep  not! 
The  spirits  sleep  not; 
'Tis  they  who  ordain 
To  woman,  pain. 

Hush,  hushaby,  little  woman! 
Now,  all  things  bearing, 
A  new  gift  sharing 
From  those  above  — 
To  woman,  love. 

—  Sioux  Lullaby. 


c 


^^INTO,  wgyanna!  Yes,  indeed; 
she  is  a  real  little  woman,"  de 
clares  the  old  grandmother,  as 
she  receives  and  critically  examines  the 
tiny  bit  of  humanity. 


76  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

There  is  no  remark  as  to  the  color  of 
its  hair  or  eyes,  both  so  black  as  almost 
to  be  blue,  but  the  old  woman  scans 
sharply  the  delicate  profile  of  the  baby 
face. 

"  Ah,  she  has  the  nose  of  her  ancestors! 
Lips  thin  as  a  leaf,  and  eyes  bright  as 
stars  in  midwinter! "  she  exclaims,  as 
she  passes  on  the  furry  bundle  to  the  other 
grandmother  for  her  inspection. 

"  Tokee!  she  is  pretty  enough  to  win  a 
twinkle  from  the  evening  star,"  remarks 
that  smiling  personage. 

"  And  what  shall  her  name  be?  " 

"  Winona,  the  First-born,  of  course. 
That  is  hers  by  right  of  birth." 

"  Still,  it  may  not  fit  her.  One  must 
prove  herself  worthy  in  order  to  retain  that 
honorable  name." 

"  Ugh,"  retorts  the  first  grandmother, 
"she  can  at  least  bear  it  on  proba 
tion!  " 

"  Tosh,  tosh,"  the  other  assents. 


WINONA'S  CHILDHOOD  77 

Thus  the  unconscious  little  Winona  has 
passed  the  first  stage  of  the  Indian's 
christening. 

Presently  she  is  folded  into  a  soft  white 
doeskin,  well  lined  with  the  loose  down  of 
cattails,  and  snugly  laced  into  an  upright 
oaken  cradle,  the  front  of  which  is  a  richly 
embroidered  buckskin  bag,  with  porcupine 
quills  and  deer's  hoofs  suspended  from  its 
profuse  fringes.  This  gay  cradle  is  strapped 
upon  the  second  grandmother's  back,  and 
that  dignitary  walks  off  with  the  new 
comer. 

"  You  must  come  with  me,"  she  says. 
"  We  shall  go  among  the  father  and  mother 
trees,  and  hear  them  speak  with  their 
thousand  tongues,  that  you  may  know  their 
language  forever.  I  will  hang  the  cradle 
of  the  woman-child  upon  Utuhu,  the  oak; 
and  she  shall  hear  the  love-sighs  of  the 
pine  maiden!  " 

In  this  fashion  Winona  is  in  roduced  to 
nature  and  becomes  at  once  "  nature-born," 


78  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

in  accord  with  the  beliefs  and  practices 
of  the  wild  red  man. 

The  baby  girl  is  called  Winona  for  some 
months,  when  the  medicine-man  is  sum 
moned  and  requested  to  name  publicly 
the  first-born  daughter  of  Chetonska,  the 
White  Hawk;  but  not  until  he  has  re 
ceived  a  present  of  a  good  pony  with  a 
finely  painted  buffalo-robe.  It  is  usual 
to  confer  another  name  besides  that  of 
the  "  First-born,"  which  may  be  resumed 
later  if  the  maiden  proves  worthy.  The 
name  Winona  implies  much  of  honor.  It 
means  charitable,  kind,  helpful;  all  that 
an  eldest  sister  should  be! 

The  herald  goes  around  the  ring  of 
lodges  announcing  in  singsong  fashion  the 
christening,  and  inviting  everybody  to  a 
feast  in  honor  of  the  event.  A  real  American 
christening  is  always  a  gala  occasion,  when 
much  savage  wealth  is  distributed  among 
the  poor  and  old  people.  Winona  has  only 
just  walked,  and  this  f^ct  is  also  announced 


WINONA'S  CHILDHOOD  79 

with  additional  gifts.  A  well-born  child 
is  ever  before  the  tribal  eye  and  in  the  tribal 
ear,  as  every  little  step  in  its  progress 
toward  manhood  or  womanhood  —  the  first 
time  of  walking  or  swimming,  first  shot  with 
bow  and  arrow  (if  a  boy),  first  pair  of  moc 
casins  made  (if  a  girl)  —  is  announced  pub 
licly  with  feasting  and  the  giving  of  presents. 

So  Winona  receives  her  individual  name 
of  Tatiyopa,  or  Her  Door.  It  is  symbolic, 
like  most  Indian  names,  and  implies  that 
the  door  of  the  bearer  is  hospitable  and  her 
home  attractive. 

The  two  grandmothers,  who  have  carried 
the  little  maiden  upon  their  backs,  now 
tell  and  sing  to  her  by  turns  all  the  legends 
of  their  most  noted  female  ancestors,  from 
the  twin  sisters  of  the  old  story,  the  maidens 
who  married  among  the  star  people  of  the 
sky,  down  to  their  own  mothers.  All  their 
lullabies  are  feminine,  and  designed  to 
impress  upon  her  tender  mind  the  life 
and  duties  of  her  sex. 


80  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

As  soon  as  she  is  old  enough  to  play  with 
dolls,  she  plays  mother  in  all  seriousness  and 
gravity.  She  is  dressed  like  a  miniature 
woman  (and  her  dolls  are  clad  likewise), 
in  garments  of  doeskin  to  her  ankles, 
adorned  with  long  fringes,  embroidered 
with  porcupine  quills,  and  dyed  with  root 
dyes  in  various  colors.  Her  little  blanket 
or  robe,  with  which  she  shyly  drapes  or 
screens  her  head  and  shoulders,  is  the  skin 
of  a  buffalo  calf  or  a  deer,  soft,  white,  em 
broidered  on  the  smooth  side,  and  often 
with  the  head  and  hoofs  left  on. 

"  You  must  never  forget,  my  little  daugh 
ter,  that  you  are  a  woman  like  my 
self.  Do  always  those  things  that  you  see 
me  do,"  her  mother  often  admonishes 
her. 

Even  the  language  of  the  Sioux  has  its 
feminine  dialect,  and  the  tiny  girl  would 
be  greatly  abashed  were  it  ever  needful 
to  correct  her  for  using  a  masculine  termi 
nation. 


WINONA'S  CHILDHOOD  81 

This  mother  makes  for  her  little  daughter 
a  miniature  copy  of  every  rude  tool  that 
she  uses  in  her  daily  tasks.  There  is  a 
little  scraper  of  elk-horn  to  scrape  raw 
hides  preparatory  to  tanning  them,  another 
scraper  of  a  different  shape  for  tanning, 
bone  knives,  and  stone  mallets  for  pounding 
choke-cherries  and  jerked  meat. 

While  her  mother  is  bending  over  a 
large  buffalo-hide  stretched  and  pinned 
upon  the  ground,  standing  upon  it  and 
scraping  off  the  fleshy  portion  as  nimbly 
as  a  carpenter  shaves  a  board  with  his 
plane,  Winona,  at  five  years  of  age,  stands 
upon  a  corner  of  the  great  hide  and  in 
dustriously  scrapes  away  with  her  tiny 
instrument.  When  the  mother  stops  to 
sharpen  her  tool,  the  little  woman  always 
sharpens  hers  also.  Perhaps  there  is  water 
to  be  fetched  in  bags  made  from  the  dried 
pericardium  of  an  animal;  the  girl  brings 
some  in  a  smaller  water-bag.  When  her 
mother  goes  for  wood  she  carries  one  or  two 


82  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

sticks  on  her  back.  She  pitches  her  play 
teepee  to  form  an  exact  copy  of  her  mother's. 
Her  little  belongings  are  nearly  all  prac 
tical,  and  her  very  play  is  real! 


n 

WINONA'S  GIELHOOD 

Braver  than  the  bravest, 

You  sought  honors  at  death's  door; 
Could  you  not  remember 

One  who  weeps  at  home  — 
Could  you  not  remember  me? 

Braver  than  the  bravest, 

You  sought  honors  more  than  love; 
Dear,  I  weep,  yet  I  am  not  a  coward; 

My  heart  weeps  for  thee  — 
Mv  heart  weeps  when  I  remember  thee! 

—  Sioux  Love  Song. 


sky  is  blue  overhead,  peeping 
through  window-like  openings  in 
"^      a  roof  of  green  leaves.    Right  be 
tween  a  great  pine  and  a  birch  tree  their 
soft  doeskin  shawls  are  spread,  and  there 
sit  two  Sioux  maidens  amid  their  fineries  — 
variously  colored  porcupine  quills  for  em- 


84  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

broidery  laid  upon  sheets  of  thin  birch- 
bark,  and  moccasin  tops  worked  in  colors 
like  autumn  leaves.  It  is  Winona  and 
her  friend  Miniyata. 

They  have  arrived  at  the  period  during 
which  the  young  girl  is  carefully  secluded 
from  her  brothers  and  cousins  and  future 
lovers,  and  retires,  as  it  were,  into  the 
nunnery  of  the  woods,  behind  a  veil  of 
thick  foliage.  Thus  she  is  expected  to 
develop  her  womanly  qualities.  In  medi 
tation  and  solitude,  entirely  alone  or  with 
a  chosen  companion  of  her  own  sex  and  age, 
she  gains  a  secret  strength,  as  she  studies 
the  art  of  womanhood  from  nature  herself. 

"  Come,  let  us  practise  our  sacred  dance," 
says  one  to  the  other.  Each  crowns  her 
glossy  head  with  a  wreath  of  wild  flowers, 
and  they  dance  with  slow  steps  around  the 
white  birch,  singing  meanwhile  'the  sacred 
songs. 

Now  upon  the  lake  that  stretches  blue 
to  the  eastward  there  appears  a  distant 


WINONA'S  GIRLHOOD  85 

canoe,  a  mere  speck,  no  bigger  than  a  bird 
far  off  against  the  shining  sky. 

"See  the  lifting  of  the  paddles! "  ex 
claims  Winona. 

"  Like  the  leaping  of  a  trout  upon  the 
water! "  suggests  Miniyata. 

"  I  hope  they  will  not  discover  us,  yet 
I  would  like  to  know  who  they  are,"  re 
marks  the  other,  innocently. 

The  birch  canoe  approaches  swiftly,  with 
two  young  men  plying  the  light  cedar 
paddles. 

The  girls  now  settle  down  to  their  needle 
work,  quite  as  if  they  had  never  laughed  or 
danced  or  woven  garlands,  bending  over 
their  embroidery  in  perfect  silence.  Surely 
they  would  not  wish  to  attract  attention, 
for  the  two  sturdy  young  warriors  have  al 
ready  landed. 

They  pick  up  the  canoe  and  lay  it  well 
up  on  the  bank,  out  of  sight.  Then  one 
procures  a  strong  pole.  They  lift  a  buck 
deer  from  the  canoe  —  not  a  mark  upon 


86  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

it,  save  for  the  bullet  wound;  the  deer 
looks  as  if  it  were  sleeping!  They  tie  the 
hind  legs  together  and  the  fore  legs  also 
and  carry  it  between  them  on  the  pole. 

Quickly  and  cleverly  they  do  all  this; 
and  now  they  start  forward  and  come  un 
expectedly  upon  the  maidens'  retreat !  They 
pause  for  an  instant  in  mute  apology,  but 
the  girls  smile  their  forgiveness,  and  the 
youths  hurry  on  toward  the  village. 

Winona  has  now  attended  her  first  maid 
ens'  feast  and  is  considered  eligible  to 
marriage.  She  may  receive  young  men,  but 
not  in  public  or  in  a  social  way,  for  such 
is  not  the  custom  of  the  Sioux.  When 
he  speaks,  she  need  not  answer  him  unless 
she  chooses. 

It  was  no  disgrace  to  the  chief's  daughter 
in  the  old  days  to  work  with  her  hands. 
Indeed,  their  standard  of  worth  was  the 
willingness  to  work,  but  not  for  the  sake 
of  accumulation,  only  in  order  to  give. 
Winona  has  learned  to  prepare  skins,  to 


WINONA'S  GIRLHOOD  87 

remove  the  hair  and  tan  the  skin  of  a  deer 
so  that  it  may  be  made  into  moccasins 
within  three  days.  She  has  a  bone  tool 
for  each  stage  of  the  conversion  of  the  stiff 
rawhide  into  velvety  leather.  She  has 
been  taught  the  art  of  painting  tents  and 
rawhide  cases,  and  the  manufacture  of 
garments  of  all  kinds. 

Generosity  is  a  trait  that  is  highly  devel 
oped  in  the  Sioux  woman.  She  makes  many 
moccasins  and  other  articles  of  clothing 
for  her  male  relatives,  or  for  any  who  are 
not  well  provided.  She  loves  to  see  her 
brother  the  best  dressed  among  the  young 
men,  and  the  moccasins  especially  of  a 
young  brave  are  the  pride  of  his  woman 
kind. 

Her  own  person  is  neatly  attired,  but 
ordinarily  with  great  simplicity.  Her  doe 
skin  gown  has  wide,  flowing  sleeves;  the 
neck  is  low,  but  not  so  low  as  is  the  evening 
dress  of  society. 

Her  moccasins  are  plain;  her  leggins  close- 


88  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

fitting  and  not  as  high  as  her  brother's. 
She  parts  her  smooth,  jet-black  hair  in  the 
middle  and  plaits  it  in  two.  In  the  old  days 
she  used  to  do  it  in  one  plait  wound  around 
with  wampum.  Her  ornaments,  sparingly 
worn,  are  beads,  elks'  teeth,  and  a  touch  of 
red  paint.  No  feathers  are  worn  by  the 
woman,  unless  in  a  sacred  dance.  She  is 
supposed  to  be  always  occupied  with  some 
feminine  pursuit  or  engaged  in  some  social 
affair,  which  also  is  strictly  feminine  as  a 
rule. 

There  is  an  etiquette  of  sitting  and  stand 
ing,  which  is  strictly  observed.  The  woman 
must  never  raise  her  knees  or  cross  her  feet 
when  seated.  She  seats  herself  on  the 
ground  sidewise,  with  both  feet  under  her. 

Notwithstanding  her  modesty  and  un 
demonstrative  ways,  there  is  no  lack  of 
mirth  and  relaxation  for  Winona  among 
her  girl  companions. 

In  summer,  swimming  and  playing  in 
the  water  is  a  favorite  amusement.  She 


WINONA'S  GIRLHOOD  89 

even  imitates  with  the  soles  of  her  feet  the 
peculiar,  resonant  sound  that  the  beaver 
makes  with  her  large,  flat  tail  upon  the  sur 
face  of  the  water.  She  is  a  graceful  swim 
mer,  keeping  the  feet  together  and  waving 
them  backward  and  forward  like  the  tail 
of  a  fish. 

Nearly  all  her  games  are  different  from 
those  of  the  men.  She  has  a  sport  of  wand- 
throwing,  which  develops  fine  muscles  of 
the  shoulder  and  back.  The  wands  are 
about  eight  feet  long,  and  taper  gradually 
from  an  inch  and  a  half  to  half  an  inch  in 
diameter.  Some  of  them  are  artistically 
made,  with  heads  of  bone  and  horn,  so  that 
it  is  remarkable  to  what  a  distance  they 
may  be  made  to  slide  over  the  ground.  In 
the  feminine  game  of  ball,  which  is  some 
thing  like  "  shinny,"  the  ball  is  driven  with 
curved  sticks  between  two  goals.  It  is 
played  with  from  two  or  three  to  a  hundred 
on  a  side,  and  a  game  between  two  bands 
or  villages  is  a  picturesque  event. 


90  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

A  common  indoor  diversion  is  the  "  deer's 
foot  "  game,  played  with  six  deer  hoofs  on  a 
string,  ending  in  a  bone  or  steel  awl.  The 
object  is  to  throw  it  in  such  a  way  as  to 
catch  one  or  more  hoofs  on  the  point  of 
the  awl,  a  feat  which  requires  no  little 
dexterity.  Another  is  played  with  marked 
plum-stones  in  a  bowl,  which  are  thrown 
like  dice  and  count  according  to  the  side 
that  is  turned  uppermost. 

Winona's  wooing  is  a  typical  one.  As 
with  any  other  people,  love-making  is  more 
or  less  in  vogue  at  all  times  of  the  year,  but 
more  especially  at  midsummer,  during  the 
characteristic  reunions  and  festivities  of 
that  season.  The  young  men  go  about 
usually  in  pairs,  and  the  maidens  do  like 
wise.  They  may  meet  by  chance  at  any 
time  of  day,  in  the  woods  or  at  the  spring, 
but  oftenest  seek  to  do  so  after  dark,  just 
outside  the  teepee.  The  girl  has  her  com 
panion,  and  he  has  his,  for  the  sake  of 
propriety  or  protection.  The  conversation 


WINONA'S  GIRLHOOD  91 

is  carried  on  in  a  whisper,  so  that  even 
these  chaperons  do  not  hear. 

At  the  sound  of  the  drum  on  summer 
evenings,  dances  are  begun  within  the 
circular  rows  of  teepees,  but  without  the 
circle  the  young  men  promenade  in  pairs. 
Each  provides  himself  with  the  plaintive 
flute  and  plays  the  simple  cadences  of  his 
people,  while  his  person  is  completely 
covered  with  his  fine  robe,  so  that  he  can 
not  be  recognized  by  the  passer-by.  At 
every  pause  in  the  melody  he  gives  his 
yodel-like  love-call,  to  which  the  girls 
respond  with  their  musical,  sing-song 
laughter. 

Matosapa  has  improved  every  op 
portunity,  until  Winona  has  at  last  shyly 
admitted  her  willingness  to  listen.  For  a 
whole  year  he  has  been  compelled  at  inter 
vals  to  repeat  the  story  of  his  love.  Through 
the  autumn  hunting  of  the  buffalo  and 
the  long,  cold  winter  he  often  presents  her 
kinsfolk  with  his  game. 


92  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

At  the  next  midsummer  the  parents  on 
both  sides  are  made  acquainted  with  the 
betrothal,  and  they  at  once  begin  prepara 
tions  for  the  coming  wedding.  Provisions 
and  delicacies  of  all  kinds  are  laid  aside 
for  a  feast.  Matosapa's  sisters  and  his  girl 
cousins  are  told  of  the  approaching  event, 
and  they  too  prepare  for  it,  since  it  is  their 
duty  to  dress  or  adorn  the  bride  with 
garments  made  by  their  own  hands. 

The  bride  is  ceremoniously  delivered  to 
her  husband's  people,  together  with  presents 
of  rich  clothing,  collected  from  all  her  clan, 
which  she  afterward  distributes  among  her 
new  relations.  Winona  is  carried  in  a  tra- 
vois  handsomely  decorated,  and  is  received 
with  equal  ceremony. 


Ill 

A  MIDSUMMER   FEAST 

^  •  AHE  Wahpetonwan  village  on  the 
banks  of  the  Minnesota  river  was 

-*-  alive  with  the  newly-arrived  guests 
and  the  preparations  for  the  coming  event. 
Meat  of  wild  game  had  been  put  away  with 
much  care  during  the  previous  fall  in  an 
ticipation  of  this  feast.  There  was  wild  rice 
and  the  choicest  of  dried  venison  that  had 
been  kept  all  winter,  as  well  as  freshly  dug 
turnips,  ripe  berries  and  an  abundance  of 
fresh  meat. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  woods  the  teepees 
were  pitched  in  groups  or  semi-circles,  each 
band  distinct  from  the  others.  The  teepee 
of  Mankato  or  Blue  Earth  was  pitched  in  a 
conspicuous  spot.  Just  over  the  entrance 
was  painted  in  red  and  yellow  a  picture  of 


94  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

a  pipe,  and  directly  opposite  this  the  rising 
sun.  The  painting  was  symbolic  of  wel 
come  and  good  will  to  men  under  the  bright 
sun. 

A  meeting  was  held  to  appoint  some 
"  medicine-man  "  to  make  the  balls  that 
were  to  be  used  in  the  lacrosse  contest; 
and  presently  the  herald  announced  that 
this  honor  had  been  conferred  upon  old 
Chankpee-yuhah,  or  "  Keeps  the  Club," 
while  every  other  man  of  his  profession 
was  disappointed. 

Towards  evening  he  appeared  in  the 
circle,  leading  by  the  hand  a  boy  about 
four  years  old.  Closely  the  little  fellow 
observed  every  motion  of  the  man;  noth 
ing  escaped  his  vigilant  black  eyes,  which 
seemed  constantly  to  grow  brighter  and 
larger,  while  his  glossy  black  hair  was 
plaited  and  wound  around  his  head  like 
that  of  a  Celestial.  He  wore  a  bit  of  swan's 
down  in  each  ear,  which  formed  a  striking 
contrast  with  the  child's  complexion.  Fur- 


A  MIDSUMMER  FEAST  95 

ther  than  this,  the  boy  was  painted  accord 
ing  to  the  fashion  of  the  age.  He  held  in 
his  hands  a  miniature  bow  and  arrows. 

The  medicine-man  drew  himself  up  in 
an  admirable  attitude,  and  proceeded  to 
make  his  short  speech: 

"  Wahpetonwans,  you  boast  that  you 
run  down  the  elk;  you  can  outrun  the 
Ojibways.  Before  you  all,  I  dedicate  to 
you  this  red  ball.  Kaposias,  you  claim  that 
no  one  has  a  lighter  foot  than  you;  you 
declare  that  you  can  endure  running  a 
whole  day  without  water.  To  you  I  dedi 
cate  this  black  ball.  Either  you  or  the 
Leaf -Dwellers  will  have  to  drop  your  eyes 
and  bow  your  head  when  the  game  is 
over.  I  wish  to  announce  that  if  the 
Wahpetonwans  should  win,  this  little  war 
rior  shall  bear  the  name  Ohiyesa  (winner) 
through  life;  but  if  the  Light  Lodges  should 
win,  let  the  name  be  given  to  any  child 
appointed  by  them." 

The  ground  selected  for  the  great  game 


96  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

was  on  a  narrow  strip  of  land  between  a 
lake  and  the  river.  It  was  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  long  and  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  width.  The  spectators  had  already 
ranged  themselves  all  along  the  two  sides, 
as  well  as  at  the  two  ends,  which  were 
somewhat  higher  than  the  middle.  The 
soldiers  appointed  to  keep  order  furnished 
much  of  the  entertainment  of  the  day. 
They  painted  artistically  and  tastefully, 
according  to  the  Indian  fashion,  not  only 
their  bodies  but  also  their  ponies  and 
clubs.  They  were  so  strict  in  enforcing 
the  laws  that  no  one  could  venture  with 
safety  within  a  few  feet  of  the  limits  of  the 
field. 

Now  all  of  the  minor  events  and  feasts, 
occupying  several  days'  time,  had  been 
observed.  Heralds  on  ponies'  backs  an 
nounced  that  all  who  intended  to  partici 
pate  in  the  final  game  were  requested  to  re 
pair  to  the  ground;  also  that  if  any  one  bore 
a  grudge  against  another,  he  was  implored 


A  MIDSUMMER  FEAST  97 

to  forget  his  ill-feeling  until  the  contest 
should  be  over. 

The  most  powerful  men  were  stationed 
at  the  half-way  ground,  while  the  fast 
runners  were  assigned  to  the  back.  It  was 
an  impressive  spectacle  —  a  fine  collection 
of  agile  forms,  almost  stripped  of  garments 
and  painted  in  wild  imitation  of  the  rain 
bow  and  sunset  sky  on  human  canvas. 
Some  had  undertaken  to  depict  the  Milky 
Way  across  their  tawny  bodies,  and  one  or 
two  made  a  bold  attempt  to  reproduce 
the  lightning.  Others  contented  them 
selves  with  painting  the  figure  of  some  fleet 
animal  or  swift  bird  on  their  muscular 
chests. 

At  the  middle  of  the  ground  were  sta 
tioned  four  immense  men,  magnificently 
formed.  A  fifth  approached  this  group, 
paused  a  moment,  and  then  threw  his 
head  back,  gazed  up  into  the  sky  in  the 
manner  of  a  cock  and  gave  a  smooth, 
clear  operatic  tone.  Instantly  the  little 


98  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

black  ball  went  up  between  the  two  middle 
rushers,  in  the  midst  of  yells,  cheers  and 
war-whoops.  Both  men  endeavored  to 
catch  it  in  the  air;  but  alas!  each  in 
terfered  with  the  other;  then  the  guards 
on  each  side  rushed  upon  them.  For  a 
time,  a  hundred  lacrosse  sticks  vied  with 
each  other,  and  the  wriggling  human  flesh 
and  paint  were  all  one  could  see  through 
the  cloud  of  dust.  Suddenly  there  shot 
swiftly  through  the  air  toward  the  south, 
toward  the  Kaposias'  goal,  the  ball.  There 
was  a  general  cheer  from  their  adherents, 
which  echoed  back  from  the  white  cliff 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Minnesota. 

As  the  ball  flew  through  the  air,  two 
adversaries  were  ready  to  receive  it.  The 
Kaposia  quickly  met  the  ball,  but  failed 
to  catch  it  in  his  netted  bag,  for  the  other 
had  swung  his  up  like  a  flash.  Thus  it 
struck  the  ground,  but  had  no  opportunity 
to  bound  up  when  a  Wahpeton  pounced 
upon  it  like  a  cat  and  slipped  out  of  the 


A  MIDSUMMER  FEAST  99 

grasp  of  his  opponents.  A  mighty  cheer 
thundered  through  the  air. 

The  warrior  who  had  undertaken  to 
pilot  the  little  sphere  was  risking  much,  for 
he  must  dodge  a  host  of  Kaposias  before 
he  could  gain  any  ground.  He  was  alert 
and  agile;  now  springing  like  a  panther, 
now  leaping  like  a  deer  over  a  stooping 
opponent  who  tried  to  seize  him  around  the 
waist.  Every  opposing  player  was  upon 
his  heels,  while  those  of  his  own  side  did  all 
in  their  power  to  clear  the  way  for  him. 
But  it  was  all  in  vain.  He  only  gained 
fifty  paces. 

Thus  the  game  went.  First  one  side, 
then  the  other  would  gain  an  advantage, 
and  then  it  was  lost,  until  the  herald  pro 
claimed  that  it  was  time  to  change  the 
ball.  No  victory  was  in  sight  for  either 
side. 

After  a  few  minutes'  rest,  the  game  was 
resumed.  The  red  ball  was  now  tossed 
in  the  air  in  the  usual  way.  No  sooner  had 


100  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

it  descended  than  one  of  the  rushers  caught 
it  and  away  it  went  northward;  again  it 
was  fortunate,  for  it  was  advanced  by 
one  of  the  same  side.  The  scene  was  now 
one  of  the  wildest  excitement  and  confu 
sion.  At  last,  the  northward  flight  of  the 
ball  was  checked  for  a  moment  and  a 
desperate  struggle  ensued. 

The  ball  had  not  been  allowed  to  come 
to  the  surface  since  it  reached  this  point, 
for  there  were  more  than  a  hundred  men 
who  scrambled  for  it.  Suddenly  a  warrior 
shot  out  of  the  throng  like  the  ball  itself! 
Then  some  of  the  players  shouted:  "  Look 
out  for  Antelope!  "  But  it  was  too  late. 
The  little  sphere  had  already  nestled  into 
Antelope's  palm  and  that  fleetest  of  Wah- 
petons  had  thrown  down  his  lacrosse  stick 
and  set  a  determined  eye  upon  the  northern 
goal. 

Such  a  speed!  He  had  cleared  almost  all 
the  opponents'  guards  —  there  were  but 
two  more.  These  were  exceptional  runners 


A  MIDSUMMER  FEAST  101 

of  the  Kaposias.  As  he  approached  them 
in  his  almost  irresistible  speed,  every  savage 
heart  thumped  louder  in  the  Indian's 
dusky  bosom.  In  another  moment  there 
would  be  a  defeat  for  the  Kaposias  or  a 
prolongation  of  the  game.  The  two  men, 
with  a  determined  look  approached  their 
foe  like  two  panthers  prepared  to  spring; 
yet  he  neither  slackened  his  speed  nor 
deviated  from  his  course.  A  crash  —  a 
mighty  shout!  —  the  two  Kaposias  collided, 
and  the  swift  Antelope  had  won  the  laurels! 

The  turmoil  and  commotion  at  the  vic 
tors'  camp  were  indescribable.  A  few 
beats  of  a  drum  were  heard,  after  which  the 
criers  hurried  along  the  lines,  announcing 
the  last  act  to  be  performed  at  the  camp 
of  the  "  Leaf  Dwellers." 

The  day  had  been  a  perfect  one.  Every 
event  had  been  a  success;  and,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  the  old  people  were  happy,  for 
they  largely  profited  by  these  occasions. 
Within  the  circle  formed  by  the  general 


102  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

assembly  sat  in  a  group  the  members 
of  the  common  council.  Blue  Earth  arose, 
and  in  a  few  appropriate  and  courteous  re 
marks  assured  his  guests  that  it  was  not 
selfishness  that  led  his  braves  to  carry  off 
the  honors  of  the  last  event,  but  that  this 
was  a  friendly  contest  in  which  each  band 
must  assert  its  prowess.  In  memory  of 
this  victory,  the  boy  would  now  receive 
his  name.  A  loud  "  Ho-o-o  "  of  approba 
tion  reverberated  from  the  edge  of  the 
forest  upon  the  Minnesota's  bank. 

Half  frightened,  the  little  fellow  was  now 
brought  into  the  circle,  looking  very  much 
as  if  he  were  about  to  be  executed.  Cheer 
after  cheer  went  up  for  the  awe-stricken 
boy.  Chankpee-yuhah,  the  medicine-man, 
proceeded  to  confer  the  name. 

"  Ohiyesa  (or  Winner)  shall  be  thy  name 
henceforth.  Be  brave,  be  patient  and 
thou  shalt  always  win!  Thy  name  is 
Ohiyesa/' 


IV 

THE    FAITHFULNESS   OF   LONG  EARS 

AWAY  beyond  the  Thin  Hills,  above 
the  Big  Lone  Tree  upon  the  Pow 
der  river,  the  Uncpapa  Sioux  had 
celebrated  their  Sun  Dance,  some  forty 
years  ago.  It  was  midsummer  and  the  red 
folk  were  happy.  They  lacked  for  nothing. 
The  yellowish  green  flat  on  either  side  of 
the  Powder  was  studded  with  wild  flowers, 
and  the  cottonwood  trees  were  in  full  leaf. 
One  large  circle  of  buffalo-skin  teepees 
formed  the  movable  village. 

The  tribal  rites  had  all  been  observed, 
and  the  usual  summer  festivities  enjoyed 
to  the  full.  The  camp  as  it  broke  up  divided 
itself  in  three  parts,  each  of  which  had 
determined  to  seek  a  favorite  hunting- 
ground. 


104  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

One  band  journeyed  west,  toward  the 
Tongue  river.  One  followed  a  tributary 
of  the  Powder  to  the  south.  The  third 
merely  changed  camp,  on  account  of  the 
grazing  for  ponies,  and  for  four  days  re 
mained  near  the  old  place. 

The  party  that  went  west  did  not  fail 
to  realize  the  perilous  nature  of  their 
wanderings,  for  they  were  trespassing  upon 
the  country  of  the  warlike  Crows. 

On  the  third  day  at  sunrise,  the  Sioux 
crier's  voice  resounded  in  the  valley  of  the 
Powder,  announcing  that  the  lodges  must 
be  razed  and  the  villagers  must  take  up 
their  march. 

Breakfast  of  jerked  buffalo  meat  had 
been  served  and  the  women  were  adjusting 
their  packs,  not  without  much  chatter  and 
apparent  confusion.  Weeko  (Beautiful 
Woman),  the  young  wife  of  the  war-chief 
Shunkaska,  who  had  made  many  presents 
at  the  dances  in  honor  of  her  twin 
boys,  now  gave  one  of  her  remaining  ponies 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    105 

to  a  poor  old  woman  whose  only  beast  of 
burden,  a  large  dog,  had  died  during  the 
night. 

This  made  it  necessary  to  shift  the  packs 
of  the  others.  Nakpa,  or  Long  Ears,  her 
kitten-like  gray  mule,  which  had  hereto 
fore  been  honored  with  the  precious  burden 
of  the  twin  babies,  was  to  be  given  a  heav 
ier  and  more  cumbersome  load.  Weeko's 
two-year-old  spotted  pony  was  selected 
to  carry  the  babies. 

Accordingly,  the  two  children,  in  their 
gorgeously  beaded  buckskin  hoods,  were 
suspended  upon  either  side  of  the  pony's 
saddle.  As  Weeko's  first-born,  they  were 
beautifully  dressed;  even  the  saddle  and 
bridle  were  daintily  worked  by  her  own 
hands. 

The  caravan  was  now  in  motion,  and 
Weeko  started  all  her  ponies  after  the 
leader,  while  she  adjusted  the  mule's  clumsy 
burden  of  kettles  and  other  household 
gear.  In  a  moment: 


106  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

"  Go  on,  let  us  see  how  you  move  with 
your  new  load!  Go  on!  "  she  exclaimed 
again,  with  a  light  blow  of  the  horse-hair 
lariat,  as  the  animal  stood  perfectly  still. 

Nakpa  simply  gave  an  angry  side  glance 
at  her  load  and  shifted  her  position  once 
or  twice.  Then  she  threw  herself  headlong 
into  the  air  and  landed  stiff-legged,  utter 
ing  at  the  same  time  her  unearthly  protest. 
First  she  dove  straight  through  the  crowd, 
then  proceeded  in  a  circle,  her  heels  de 
scribing  wonderful  curves  and  sweeps  in  the 
air.  Her  pack,  too,  began  to  come  to  pieces 
and  to  take  forced  flights  from  her  undig 
nified  body  and  heels,  in  the  midst  of  the 
screams  of  women  and  children,  the  bark 
ing  of  dogs,  and  the  war-whoops  of  the 
amused  young  braves. 

The  cowskin  tent  became  detached  from 
her  saddle,  and  a  moment  later  Nakpa 
stood  free.  Her  sides  worked  like  a  bellows 
as  she  stood  there,  meekly  indignant,  ap 
parently  considering  herself  to  be  the 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    107 

victim  of  an  uncalled-for  misunderstand 
ing. 

"  I  should  put  an  arrow  through  her  at 
once,  only  she  is  not  worth  a  good  arrow," 
said  Shunkaska,  or  White  Dog,  the  husband 
of  Weeko.  At  his  wife's  answer,  he  opened 
his  eyes  in  surprised  displeasure. 

"  No,  she  shall  have  her  own  pack  again. 
She  wants  her  twins.  I  ought  never  to 
have  taken  them  from  her!  " 

Weeko  approached  Nakpa  as  she  stood 
alone  and  unfriended  in  the  face  of  her 
little  world,  all  of  whom  considered  that 
she  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin. 
As  for  her,  she  evidently  felt  that  her  mis 
fortunes  had  not  been  of  her  own  making. 
She  gave  a  hesitating,  sidelong  look  at  her 
mistress. 

"  Nakpa,  you  should  not  have  acted  so. 
I  knew  you  were  stronger  than  the  others, 
therefore  I  gave  you  that  load,"  said  Weeko 
in  a  conciliatory  tone,  and  patted  her  on 
the  nose.  "  Come,  now,  you  shall  have 


108  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

your  own  pet  pack,"  and  she  led  her  back 
to  where  the  young  pony  stood  silently  with 
the  babies. 

Nakpa  threw  back  her  ears  and  cast 
savage  looks  at  him,  while  Shunkaska,  with 
no  small  annoyance,  gathered  together  as 
much  as  he  could  of  their  scattered  house 
hold  effects.  The  sleeping  brown-skinned 
babies  in  their  chrysalis-like  hoods  were 
gently  lowered  from  the  pony's  back  and 
attached  securely  to  Nakpa's  padded  wooden 
saddle.  The  family  pots  and  kettles  were 
divided  among  the  pack-ponies.  Order 
was  restored  and  the  village  once  more  in 
motion. 

"  Come  now,  Nakpa;  you  have  your 
wish.  You  must  take  good  care  of  my 
babies.  Be  good,  because  I  have  trusted 
you/7  murmured  the  young  mother  in 
her  softest  tones. 

"  Really,  Weeko,  you  have  some  common 
ground  with  Nakpa,  for  you  both  always 
want  to  have  your  own  way,  and  stick  to 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    109 

it,  too!  I  tell  you,  I  fear  this  Long  Ears. 
She  is  not  to  be  trusted  with  babies,"  re 
marked  Shunkaska,  with  a  good  deal  of 
severity. 

But  his  wife  made  no  reply,  for  she  well 
knew  that  though  he  might  criticize,  he 
would  not  actually  interfere  with  her  do 
mestic  arrangements. 

He  now  started  ahead  to  join  the  men 
in  advance  of  the  slow-moving  procession, 
thus  leaving  her  in  undivided  charge  of 
her  household.  One  or  two  of  the  pack 
ponies  were  not  well  trained  and  required 
all  her  attention.  Nakpa  had  been  a  faith 
ful  servant  until  her  escapade  of  the  morn 
ing,  and  she  was  now  obviously  satisfied 
with  her  mistress'  arrangements.  She 
walked  alongside  with  her  lariat  dragging, 
and  perfectly  free  to  do  as  she  pleased. 

Some  hours  later,  the  party  ascended  a 
slope  from  the  river  bottom  to  cross  over 
the  divide  which  lay  between  the  Powder 
River  and  a  tributary  stream.  The  ford 


110  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

was  deep,  with  a  swift  current.  Here  and 
there  a  bald  butte  stood  out  in  full  relief 
against  the  brilliant  blue  sky. 

"Whoo!  whoo! "  came  the  blood-cur 
dling  signal  of  danger  from  the  front.  It 
was  no  unfamiliar  sound  —  the  rovers  knew 
it  only  too  well.  It  meant  sudden  death  — 
or  at  best  a  cruel  struggle  and  frantic 
flight. 

Terrified,  yet  self-possessed,  the  women 
turned  to  fly  while  yet  there  was  time. 
Instantly  the  mother  looked  to  Nakpa, 
who  carried  on  either  side  of  the  saddle  her 
precious  boys.  She  hurriedly  examined  the 
fastenings  to  see  that  all  was  secure,  and 
then  caught  her  swiftest  pony,  for,  like 
all  Indian  women,  she  knew  just  what  was 
happening,  and  that  while  her  husband 
was  engaged  in  front  with  the  enemy,  she 
must  seek  safety  with  her  babies. 

Hardly  was  she  in  the  saddle  when  a 
heartrending  war-whoop  sounded  on  their 
flank,  and  she  knew  that  they  were  sur- 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    111 

rounded!  Instinctively  she  reached  for  her 
husband's  second  quiver  of  arrows,  which 
was  carried  by  one  of  the  pack-ponies. 
Alas!  the  Crow  warriors  were  already  upon 
them!  The  ponies  became  unmanageable, 
and  the  wild  screams  of  women  and  chil 
dren  pierced  the  awful  confusion. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  Weeko  turned  again 
to  her  babies,  but  Nakpa  had  already  dis 
appeared! 

When  the  Crows  made  their  flank  charge, 
Nakpa  apparently  appreciated  the  situa 
tion.  To  save  herself  and  the  babies,  she 
took  a  desperate  chance.  She  fled  straight 
through  the  attacking  force. 

When  the  warriors  came  howling  upon 
her  in  great  numbers,  she  at  once  started 
back  the  way  she  had  come,  to  the  camp 
left  behind.  They  had  travelled  nearly 
three  days.  To  be  sure,  they  did  not 
travel  more  than  fifteen  miles  a  day,  but 
it  was  full  forty  miles  to  cover  before 
dark. 


112  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

"  Look!  look! "  exclaimed  a  warrior, 
"  two  babies  hung  from  the  saddle  of  a 
mule!  " 

No  one  heeded  this  man's  call,  and  his 
arrow  did  not  touch  Nakpa  or  either  of  the 
boys,  but  it  struck  the  thick  part  of  the 
saddle  over  the  mule's  back. 

"Whoo!  whoo!  "  yelled  another  Grow 
to  his  comrades,  "  the  Sioux  have  dispatched 
a  runner  to  get  reinforcements!  There  he 
goes,  down  on  the  flat!  Now  he  has  al 
most  reached  the  river  bottom!  " 

It  was  only  Nakpa.  She  laid  back  her 
ears  and  stretched  out  more  and  more  to 
gain  the  river,  for  she  realized  that  when 
she  had  crossed  the  ford  the  Crows  would 
not  pursue  her  farther. 

Now  she  had  reached  the  bank.  With 
the  intense  heat  from  her  exertions,  she 
was  extremely  nervous,  and  she  imagined 
a  warrior  behind  every  bush.  Yet  she  had 
enough  sense  left  to  realize  that  she  must 
not  satisfy  her  thirst.  She  tried  the  bottom 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    113 

with    her   forefoot,   then    waded   carefully 
into  the  deep  stream. 

She  kept  her  big  ears  well  to  the  front 
as  she  swam,  to  catch  the  slightest  sound. 
As  she  stepped  on  the  opposite  shore,  she 
shook  herself  and  the  boys  vigorously, 
then  pulled  a  few  mouthfuls  of  grass  and 
started  on. 

Soon  one  of  the  babies  began  to  cry,  and 
the  other  was  not  long  in  joining  him. 
Nakpa  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She  gave 
a  gentle  whinny  and  both  babies  apparently 
stopped  to  listen;  then  she  took  up  an  easy 
gait  as  if  to  put  them  to  sleep. 

These  tactics  answered  only  for  a  time. 
As  she  fairly  flew  over  the  lowlands,  the 
babies'  hunger  increased  and  they  screamed 
so  loud  that  a  passing  coyote  had  to  sit 
upon  his  haunches  and  wonder  what  in 
the  world  the  fleeing  long-eared  horse  was 
carrying  on  his  saddle.  Even  magpies  and 
crows  flew  near  as  if  to  ascertain  the  meaning 
of  this  curious  sound. 


114  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

Nakpa  now  came  to  the  Little  Trail 
creek,  a  tributary  of  the  Powder,  not  far 
from  the  old  camp.  There  she  swerved  aside 
so  suddenly  as  almost  to  jerk  her  babies  out 
of  their  cradles.  Two  gray  wolves,  one 
on  each  side,  approached  her,  growling 
low  —  their  white  teeth  showing. 

Never  in  her  humble  life  had  Nakpa 
been  in  more  desperate  straits.  The  larger 
of  the  wolves  came  fiercely  forward  to  engage 
her  attention,  while  his  mate  was  to  attack 
her  behind  and  cut  her  hamstrings.  But 
for  once  the  pair  had  made  a  miscalculation. 
The  mule  used  her  front  hoofs  vigorously 
on  the  foremost  wolf,  while  her  hind  ones 
were  doing  even  more  effective  work.  The 
larger  wolf  soon  went  limping  away  with 
a  broken  hip,  and  the  one  in  the  rear  re 
ceived  a  deep  cut  on  the  jaw  which  proved 
an  effectual  discouragement. 

A  little  further  on,  an  Indian  hunter 
drew  near  on  horseback,  but  Nakpa  did  not 
pause  or  slacken  her  pace.  On  she  fled 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    115 

through  the  long  dry  grass  of  the  river 
bottoms,  while  her  babies  slept  again  from 
sheer  exhaustion.  Toward  sunset,  she  en 
tered  the  Sioux  camp  amid  great  excitement, 
for  some  one  had  spied  her  afar  off,  and 
the  boys  and  the  dogs  announced  her  com 
ing. 

"Whoo,  whoo!  Weeko's  Nakpa  has 
come  back  with  the  twins!  Whoo,  whoo!  " 
exclaimed  the  men.  "  Tokee!  tokee! " 
cried  the  women. 

Zeezeewin,  a  sister  to  Weeko,  who  was 
in  the  village,  came  forward  and  released 
the  children,  as  Nakpa  gave  a  low  whinny 
and  stopped. 

"  Sing  a  Brave-Heart  song  for  the  Long- 
Eared  One!  She  has  escaped  alone  with 
her  charge.  She  is  entitled  to  wear  an 
eagle's  feather!  Look  at  the  arrow  in  her 
saddle!  and  more,  she  has  a  knife-wound 
in  her  jaw  and  an  arrow-cut  on  her  hind 
leg.  —  No,  those  are  the  marks  of  a  wolfs 
teeth!  She  has  passed  through  many  dan- 


116  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

gers  and  saved  two  chief's  sons,  who  will 
some  day  make  the  Crows  sorry  for  this 
day's  work!  " 

The  speaker  was  an  old  man,  who  thus 
addressed  the  fast  gathering  throng. 

Zeezeewin  now  came  forward  again  with 
an  eagle  feather  and  some  white  paint  in 
her  hands.  The  young  men  rubbed  Nakpa 
down,  and  the  feather,  marked  with  red  to 
indicate  her  wounds,  was  fastened  to  her 
mane.  Shoulders  and  hips  were  touched 
with  red  paint  to  show  her  endurance  in 
running.  Then  the  crier,  praising  her 
brave  deed  in  heroic  verse,  led  her  around 
the  camp,  inside  of  the  circle  of  teepees. 
All  the  people  stood  outside  their  lodges  and 
listened  respectfully,  for  the  Dakota  loves 
well  to  honor  the  faithful  and  the  brave. 

During  the  next  day,  riders  came  in 
from  the  ill-fated  party,  bringing  the  sad 
news  of  the  fight  and  heavy  loss.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  came  Weeko,  her  face  swollen 
with  crying,  her  beautiful  hair  cut  short  in 


THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  LONG  EARS    117 

mourning,  her  garments  torn  and  covered 
with  dust  and  blood.  Her  husband  had 
fallen  in  the  fight,  and  her  twin  boys  she 
supposed  to  have  been  taken  captive  by  the 
Crows.  Singing  in  a  hoarse  voice  the  praises 
of  her  departed  warrior,  she  entered  the 
camp.  As  she  approached  her  sister's 
teepee,  there  stood  Nakpa,  still  wearing 
her  honorable  decorations.  At  the  same 
moment,  Zeezeewin  came  out  to  meet  her 
with  both  babies  in  her  arms. 

"  Mechinkshee!  mechinkshee!  (my 
sons,  my  sons! ) "  was  all  that  the  poor 
mother  could  say,  as  she  all  but  fell  from 
the  saddle  to  the  ground.  The  despised 
Long  Ears  had  not  betrayed  her  trust. 


SNANA'S  FAWN 

Little  Missouri  was  in  her 
spring  fulness,  and  the  hills  among 

-**•  which  she  found  her  way  to  the 
Great  Muddy  were  profusely  adorned  with 
colors,  much  like  those  worn  by  the  wild 
red  man  upon  a  holiday!  Between  the 
gorgeous  buttes  and  rainbow-tinted  ridges 
there  were  narrow  plains,  broken  here  and 
there  by  dry  creeks  or  gulches,  and  these 
again  were  clothed  scantily  with  poplars 
and  sad-colored  bull-berry  bushes,  while 
the  bare  spots  were  purple  with  the  wild 
Dakota  crocuses. 

Upon  the  lowest  of  a  series  of  natural 
terraces  there  stood  on  this  May  morning 
a  young  Sioux  girl,  whose  graceful  move 
ments  were  not  unlike  those  of  a  doe  which 


SNANA'S  FAWN  119 

chanced  to  be  lurking  in  a  neighboring 
gulch.  On  the  upper  plains,  not  far  away, 
were  her  young  companions,  all  busily 
employed  with  the  wewoptay,  as  it  is 
called  —  the  sharp-pointed  stick  with  which 
the  Sioux  women  dig  wild  turnips.  They 
were  gayly  gossiping  together,  or  each 
humming  a  love-song  as  she  worked,  only 
Snana  stood  somewhat  apart  from  the 
rest;  in  fact,  concealed  by  the  crest  of  the 
ridge. 

It  was  now  full-born  day.  The  sun 
shone  hot  upon  the  bare  ground,  and  the 
drops  stood  upon  Snana's  forehead  as  she 
plied  her  long  pole.  There  was  a  cool 
spring  in  the  dry  creek  bed  near  by,  well 
hidden  by  a  clump  of  choke-cherry  bushes, 
and  she  turned  thither  to  cool  her  thirsty 
throat.  In  the  depths  of  the  ravine  her 
eye  caught  a  familiar  footprint  —  the  track 
of  a  doe  with  the  young  fawn  beside  it. 
The  hunting  instinct  arose  within. 

"  It  will  be  a  great  feat  if  I  can  find  and 


120  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

take  from  her  the  babe.  The  little  tawny 
skin  shall  be  beautifully  dressed  by  my 
mother.  The  legs  and  the  nose  shall  be 
embossed  with  porcupine  quills.  It  will 
be  my  work-bag/'  she  said  to  herself. 

As  she  stole  forward  on  the  fresh  trail 
she  scanned  every  nook,  every  clump  of 
bushes.  There  was  a  sudden  rustle  from 
within  a  grove  of  wild  plum  trees,  thickly 
festooned  with  grape  and  clematis,  and 
the  doe  mother  bounded  away  as  carelessly 
as  if  she  were  never  to  return. 

Ah,  a  mother's  ruse!  Snana  entered  the 
thorny  enclosure,  which  was  almost  a  rude 
teepee,  and,  tucked  away  in  the  further 
most  corner,  lay  something  with  a  trout- 
like,  speckled,  tawny  coat.  She  bent  over 
it.  The  fawn  was  apparently  sleeping. 
Presently  its  eyes  moved  a  bit,  and  a  shiver 
passed  through  its  subtle  body. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  die;  thy  skin  shall  not 
become  my  work-bag!  "  unconsciously  the 
maiden  spoke.  The  mother  sympathy 


SNANA'S  FAWN  121 

had  taken  hold  on  her  mind.  She  picked 
the  fawn  up  tenderly,  bound  its  legs,  and 
put  it  on  her  back  to  carry  like  an  Indian 
babe  in  the  folds  of  her  robe. 

"  I  cannot  leave  you  alone,  Tachinchala. 
Your  mother  is  not  here.  Our  hunters  will 
soon  return  by  this  road,  and  your  mother 
has  left  behind  her  two  plain  tracks  leading 
to  this  thicket,"  she  murmured. 

The  wild  creature  struggled  vigorously 
for  a  minute,  and  then  became  quiet. 
Its  graceful  head  protruded  from  the  elk- 
skin  robe  just  over  Snana's  shoulder.  She 
was  slowly  climbing  the  slope  with  her 
burden,  when  suddenly  like  an  apparition 
the  doe  mother  stood  before  her.  The 
fawn  called  loudly  when  it  was  first  seized, 
and  the  mother  was  not  too  far  away  to  hear. 
Now  she  called  frantically  for  her  child,  at 
the  same  time  stamping  with  her  delicate 
forefeet. 

"Yes,  sister,  you  are  right;  she  is 
yours;  but  you  cannot  save  her  to-day! 


122  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

The  hunters  will  soon  be  here.  Let  me 
keep  her  for  you;  I  will  return  her  to  you 
safely.  And  hear  me,  0  sister  of  the  woods, 
that  some  day  I  may  become  the  mother  of 
a  noble  race  of  warriors  and  of  fine  women, 
as  handsome  as  you  are!  " 

At  this  moment  the  quick  eyes  of  the 
Indian  girl  detected  something  strange 
in  the  doe's  actions.  She  glanced  in  every 
direction  and  behold!  a  grizzly  bear  was 
cautiously  approaching  the  group  from  a 
considerable  distance. 

"  Run,  run,  sister!  I  shall  save  your  child 
if  I  can/'  she  cried,  and  flew  for  the  nearest 
scrub  oak  on  the  edge  of  the  bank.  Up 
the  tree  she  scrambled,  with  the  fawn  still 
securely  bound  to  her  back.  The  grizzly 
came  on  with  teeth  exposed,  and  the  doe- 
mother  in  her  flight  came  between  him  and 
the  tree,  giving  a  series  of  indignant  snorts 
as  she  ran,  and  so  distracted  Mato  from  his 
object  of  attack;  but  only  for  a  few  seconds 
—  then  on  he  came! 


SNANA'S  FAWN  123 

"  Desist,  0  brave  Mato!  It  does  not 
become  a  great  medicine-man  to  attack 
a  helpless  woman  with  a  burden  upon  her 
back!  " 

Snana  spoke  as  if  the  huge  brute  could 
understand  her,  and,  indeed,  the  Indians 
hold  that  wild  animals  understand  in 
tuitively  when  appealed  to  by  human  beings 
in  distress.  Yet  he  replied  only  with  a 
hoarse  growl,  as  rising  upon  his  hind  legs  he 
shook  the  little  tree  vigorously. 

"Ye,  ye,  heyupi  ye!"  Snana  called 
loudly  to  her  companion  turnip-diggers. 
Her  cry  soon  brought  all  the  women  into 
sight  upon  a  near-by  ridge,  and  they  im 
mediately  gave  a  general  alarm.  Mato  saw 
them,  but  appeared  not  at  all  concerned 
and  was  still  intent  upon  dislodging  the 
girl,  who  clung  frantically  to  her  perch. 

Presently  there  appeared  upon  the  little 
knoll  several  warriors,  mounted  and  utter 
ing  the  usual  war-whoop,  as  if  they  were 
about  to  swoop  down  upon  a  human  enemy. 


124  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

This  touched  the  dignity  of  Mato,  and  he 
immediately  prepared  to  accept  the  chal 
lenge.  Every  Indian  was  alive  to  the 
possibilities  of  the  occasion,  for  it  is  well 
known  that  Mato,  or  grizzly  bear,  alone 
among  animals  is  given  the  rank  of  a 
warrior,  so  that  whoever  conquers  him 
may  wear  an  eagle  feather. 

"Woo!  woo! "  the  warriors  shouted, 
as  they  maneuvered  to  draw  him  into  the 
open  plain. 

He  answered  with  hoarse  growls,  threat 
ening  a  rider  who  had  ventured  too  near. 
But  arrows  were  many  and  well-aimed,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  great  and  warlike 
Mato  lay  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  tree. 

The  men  ran  forward  and  counted  their 
coups  on  him,  just  as  when  an  enemy  is 
fallen.  Then  they  looked  at  one  another 
and  placed  their  hands  over  their  mouths 
as  the  young  girl  descended  the  tree  with 
a  fawn  bound  upon  her  back. 

"So   that  was  the  bait!"   they  cried. 


SNANA'S  FAWN  125 

"  And  will  you  not  make  a  feast  with  that 
fawn  for  us  who  came  to  your  rescue?  " 

"  The  fawn  is  young  and  tender,  and 
we  have  not  eaten  meat  for  two  days.  It 
will  be  a  generous  thing  to  do/7  added  her 
father,  who  was  among  them. 

"Ye-e-e!"  she  cried  out  in  distress. 
"  Do  not  ask  it!  I  have  seen  this  fawn's 
mother.  I  have  promised  to  keep  her  child 
safe.  See!  I  have  saved  its  life,  even  when 
my  own  was  in  danger.77 

"Ho,  ho,  wakan  ye  lo!  (Yes,  yes,  7tis 
holy  or  mysterious)/7  they  exclaimed  ap 
provingly. 

It  was  no  small  trouble  for  Snana  to 
keep  her  trust.  As  may  well  be  supposed, 
all  the  dogs  of  the  teepee  village  must  be 
watched  and  kept  at  a  distance.  Neither 
was  it  easy  to  feed  the  little  captive;  but 
in  gaining  its  confidence  the  girl  was  an 
adept.  The  fawn  soon  followed  her  every 
where,  and  called  to  her  when  hungry 
exactly  as  she  had  called  to  her  own  mother. 


126  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

After  several  days,  when  her  fright  at  the 
encounter  with  the  bear  had  somewhat 
worn  off,  Snana  took  her  pet  into  the  woods 
and  back  to  the  very  spot  in  which  she  had 
found  it.  In  the  furthest  corner  of  the  wild 
plum  grove  she  laid  it  down,  gently  stroked 
its  soft  forehead,  and  smoothed  the  leaf- 
like  ears.  The  little  thing  closed  its  eyes. 
Once  more  the  Sioux  girl  bent  over  and 
laid  her  cheek  against  the  fawn's  head; 
then  reluctantly  she  moved  away,  hoping 
and  yet  dreading  that  the  mother  would 
return.  She  crouched  under  a  clump  of 
bushes  near  by,  and  gave  the  doe  call.  It 
was  a  reckless  thing  for  her  to  do,  for  such 
a  call  might  bring  upon  her  a  mountain 
lion  or  ever-watchful  silver-tip;  but  Snana 
did  not  think  of  that. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  heard  the  light 
patter  of  hoofs,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
doe  running  straight  toward  the  fawn's 
hiding-place.  When  she  stole  near  enough 
to  see,  the  doe  and  the  fawn  were  examining 


SNANA'S  FAWN  127 

one  another  carefully,  as  if  fearing  some 
treachery.  At  last  both  were  apparently 
satisfied.  The  doe  caressed  her  natural 
child,  and  the  little  one  accepted  the  milk 
she  offered. 

In  the  Sioux  maiden's  mind  there  was 
turmoil.  A  close  attachment  to  the  little 
wild  creature  had  already  taken  root  there, 
contending  with  the  sense  of  justice  that 
was  strong  within  her.  Now  womanly 
sympathy  for  the  mother  was  in  control,  and 
now  a  desire  to  possess  and  protect  her  help 
less  pet. 

"  I  can  take  care  of  her  against  all  hunters, 
both  animal  and  human.  They  are  ever 
ready  to  seize  the  helpless  fawn  for  food. 
Her  life  will  be  often  exposed.  You  cannot 
save  her  from  disaster.  0,  Takcha,  my 
sister,  let  me  still  keep  her  for  you!  "  she 
finally  appealed  to  the  poor  doe,  who  was 
nervously  watching  the  intruder,  and  ap 
parently  thinking  how  she  might  best  es 
cape  with  the  fawn. 


128  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

Just  at  this  moment  there  came  a  low 
call  from  the  wood.  It  was  a  doe  call; 
but  the  wild  mother  and  her  new  friend 
both  knew  that  it  was  not  the  call  of  a  real 
doe. 

"  It  is  a  Sioux  hunter!  "  whispered  the 
girl.  "  You  must  go,  my  sister!  Be  off; 
I  will  take  your  child  to  safety!  " 

While  she  was  yet  speaking,  the  doe 
seemed  to  realize  the  danger.  She  stopped 
only  an  instant  to  lick  fondly  the  tawny 
coat  of  the  little  one,  then  she  bounded 
away. 

As  Snana  emerged  from  the  bushes  with 
her  charge,  a  young  hunter  met  her  face 
to  face,  and  stared  at  her  curiously.  He 
was  not  of  her  father's  camp,  but  a  stranger. 

"  Ugh,  you  have  my  game." 

"Tosh!"  she  replied  coquettishly. 

It  was  so  often  said  among  the  Indians 
that  the  doe  was  wont  to  put  on  human  form 
to  mislead  the  hunter,  that  it  looked  strange 
to  see  a  woman  with  a  fawn,  and  the 


SNANA'S  FAWN  129 

young  man  could  not  forbear  to  gaze 
upon  Snana. 

"  You  are  not  the  real  mother  in  maiden's 
guise?  Tell  me  truly  if  you  are  of  human 
blood/ '  he  demanded  rudely. 

"I  am  a  Sioux  maiden!  Do  you  not 
know  my  father?  "  she  replied. 

"  Ah,  but  who  is  your  father?  What  is 
his  name?  "  he  insisted,  nervously  finger 
ing  his  arrows. 

"  Do  not  be  a  coward !  Surely  you  should 
know  a  maid  of  your  own  race,"  she  replied 
reproachfully. 

"Ah,  you  know  the  tricks  of  the  doe! 
What  is  thy  name?  " 

"  Hast  thou  forgotten  the  etiquette  of 
thy  people,  and  wouldst  compel  me  to 
pronounce  my  own  name?  I  refuse;  thou 
art  jesting!  "  she  retorted  with  a  smile. 

"  Thou  dost  give  the  tricky  answers  of  a 
doe.  I  cannot  wait;  I  must  act  before  I 
lose  my  natural  mind.  But  already  I  am 
yours.  Whatever  purpose  you  may  have  in 


130  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

thus  charming  a  poor  hunter,  be  merciful/ ' 
and,  throwing  aside  his  quiver,  he  sat  down. 

The  maiden  stole  a  glance  at  his  face 
and  then  another.  He  was  handsome. 
Softly  she  reentered  the  thicket  and  laid 
down  the  little  fawn. 

"  Promise  me  never  to  hunt  here  again!  " 
she  said  earnestly,  as  she  came  forth  without 
her  pretty  burden,  and  he  exacted  another 
promise  in  return.  Thus  Snana  lost  her 
fawn,  and  found  a  lover. 


VI 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING 


H 


^AKADAH,  coowah!"  was  the 
sonorous  call  that  came  from  a 
large  teepee  in  the  midst  of  the 
Indian  encampment.  In  answer  to  the 
summons  there  emerged  from  the  woods, 
which  were  only  a  few  steps  away,  a  boy, 
accompanied  by  a  splendid  black  dog. 
There  was  little  in  the  appearance  of  the 
little  fellow  to  distinguish  him  from  the 
other  Sioux  boys. 

He  hastened  to  the  tent  from  which  he 
had  been  summoned,  carrying  in  his  hands 
a  bow  and  arrows  gorgeously  painted,  while 
the  small  birds  and  squirrels  that  he  had 
killed  with  these  weapons  dangled  from 
his  belt. 

Within  the  tent  sat  two  old  women,  one 


132  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

on  each  side  of  the  fire.  Uncheedah  was 
the  boy's  grandmother,  who  had  brought 
up  the  motherless  child.  Wahchewin  was 
only  a  caller,  but  she  had  been  invited  to 
remain  and  assist  in  the  first  personal 
offering  of  Hakadah  to  the  "  Great  Mys 
tery." 

It  had  been  whispered  through  the  teepee 
village  that  Uncheedah  intended  to  give 
a  feast  in  honor  of  her  grandchild's  first 
sacrificial  offering.  This  was  mere  specu 
lation,  however,  for  the  clear-sighted  old 
woman  had  determined  to  keep  this  part 
of  the  matter  secret  until  the  offering  should 
be  completed,  believing  that  the  "  Great 
Mystery  "  should  be  met  in  silence  and 
dignity. 

The  boy  came  rushing  into  the  lodge, 
followed  by  his  dog  Ohitika,  who  was  wag 
ging  his  tail  promiscuously,  as  if  to  say: 
"  Master  and  I  are  really  hunters!  " 

Hakadah  breathlessly  gave  a  descriptive 
narrative  of  the  killing  of  each  bird  and 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING  133 

squirrel  as  he  pulled  them  off  his  belt  and 
threw  them  before  his  grandmother. 

"  This  blunt-headed  arrow/'  said  hev 
"actually  had  eyes  this  morning.  Before 
the  squirrel  can  dodge  around  the  tree  it 
strikes  him  in  the  head,  and,  as  he  falls  to 
the  ground,  my  Ohitika  is  upon  him." 

He  knelt  upon  one  knee  as  he  talked,  his 
black  eyes  shining  like  evening  stars. 

"  Sit  down  here/'  said  Uncheedah  to  the 
boy;  "  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
You  see  that  you  are  now  almost  a  man. 
Observe  the  game  you  have  brought  me! 
It  will  not  be  long  before  you  will  leave  me, 
for  a  warrior  must  seek  opportunities  to 
make  him  great  among  his  people. 

"  You  must  endeavor  to  equal  your  fa 
ther  and  grandfather,"  she  went  on.  "  They 
were  warriors  and  feast-makers.  But  it  is 
not  the  poor  hunter  who  makes  many  feasts. 
Do  you  not  remember  the  '  Legend  of  the 
Feast-Maker/  who  gave  forty  feasts  in 
twelve  moons?  And  have  you  forgotten 


134  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

the  story  of  the  warrior  who  sought  the  will 
of  the  Great  Mystery?  To-day  you  will 
make  your  first  offering  to  him." 

The  concluding  sentence  fairly  dilated 
the  eyes  of  the  young  hunter,  for  he  felt 
that  a  great  event  was  about  to  occur,  in 
which  he  would  be  the  principal  actor.  But 
Uncheedah  resumed  her  speech. 

"  You  must  give  up  one  of  your  belong 
ings —  whichever  is  dearest  to  you  —  for 
this  is  to  be  a  sacrificial  offering." 

This  somewhat  confused  the  boy;  not 
that  he  was  selfish,  but  rather  uncertain 
as  to  what  would  be  the  most  appropriate 
thing  to  give.  Then,  too,  he  supposed 
that  his  grandmother  referred  to  his  orna 
ments  and  playthings  only.  So  he  vol 
unteered: 

"  I  can  give  up  my  best  bow  and  arrows, 
and  all  the  paints  I  have,  and  —  and  my 
bear's  claws  necklace,  grandmother!  " 

"  Are  these  the  things  dearest  to  you?  " 
she  demanded. 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING  135 

"  Not  the  bow  and  arrows,  but  the  paints 
will  be  very  hard  to  get,  for  there  are  no 
white  people  near;  and  the  necklace  —  it  is 
not  easy  to  get  one  like  it  again.  I  will 
also  give  up  my  otter-skin  head-dress,  if 
you  think  that  it  not  enough." 

"  But  think,  my  boy,  you  have  not  yet 
mentioned  the  thing  that  will  be  a  pleasant 
offering  to  the  Great  Mystery." 

The  boy  looked  into  the  woman's  face 
with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  I  have  nothing  else  as  good  as  those 
things  I  have  named,  grandmother,  unless 
it  is  my  spotted  pony;  and  I  am  sure  that 
the  Great  Mystery  will  not  require  a  little 
boy  to  make  him  so  large  a  gift.  Besides,  my 
uncle  gave  three  otter-skins  and  five  eagle- 
feathers  for  him  and  I  promised  to  keep  him 
a  long  while,  if  the  Blackfeet  or  the  Crows 
do  not  steal  him." 

Uncheedah  was  not  fully  satisfied  with 
the  boy's  free  offerings.  Perhaps  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him  what  she  really  wanted. 


136  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

But  Uncheedah  knew  where  his  affection 
was  vested.  His  faithful  dog,  his  pet  and 
companion  —  Hakadah  was  almost  insep 
arable  from  the  loving  beast. 

She  was  sure  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  obtain  his  consent  to  sacrifice  the  ani 
mal,  but  she  ventured  upon  a  final  ap 
peal. 

"  You  must  remember/'  she  said,  "  that 
in  this  offering  you  will  call  upon  him  who 
looks  at  you  from  every  creation.  In  the 
wind  you  hear  him  whisper  to  you.  He  gives 
his  war-whoop  in  the  thunder.  He  watches 
you  by  day  with  his  eye,  the  sun;  at  night, 
he  gazes  upon  your  sleeping  countenance 
through  the  moon.  In  short,  it  is  the 
Mystery  of  Mysteries,  who  controls  all 
things,  to  whom  you  will  make  your  first 
offering.  By  this  act,  you  will  ask  him 
to  grant  to  you  what  he  has  granted  to  few 
men.  I  know  you  wish  to  be  a  great  war 
rior  and  hunter.  I  am  not  prepared  to  see 
my  Hakadah  show  any  cowardice,  for  the 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING          137 

love  of  possessions  is  a  woman's  trait  and 
not  a  brave's." 

During  this  speech,  the  boy  had  been 
completely  aroused  to  the  spirit  of  manli 
ness,  and  in  his  excitement  was  willing  to 
give  up  anything  he  had  —  even  his  pony ! 
But  he  was  unmindful  of  his  friend  and 
companion,  Ohitika,  the  dog!  So,  scarcely 
had  Uncheedah  finished  speaking,  when  he 
almost  shouted: 

"  Grandmother,  I  will  give  up  any  of 
my  possessions  for  the  offering  to  the  Great 
Mystery!  You  may  select  what  you  think 
will  be  most  pleasing  to  him." 

There  were  two  silent  spectators  of  this 
little  dialogue.  One  was  Wahchewin,  the 
other  was  Ohitika.  The  woman  had  been 
invited  to  stay,  although  only  a  neighbor. 
The  dog,  by  force  of  habit,  had  taken  up  his 
usual  position  by  the  side  of  his  master 
when  they  entered  the  teepee.  Without  mov 
ing  a  muscle,  save  those  of  his  eyes,  he  had 
been  a  very  close  observer  of  what  passed. 


138  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

Had  the  dog  but  moved  once  to  attract 
the  attention  of  his  little  friend,  he  might 
have  been  dissuaded  from  that  impetuous 
exclamation:  "  Grandmother,  I  will  give 
up  any  of  my  possessions!  " 

It  was  hard  for  Uncheedah  to  tell  the 
boy  that  he  must  part  with  his  dog,  but  she 
was  equal  to  the  situation. 

"  Hakadah,"  she  proceeded  cautiously, 
"  you  are  a  young  brave.  I  know,  though 
young,  your  heart  is  strong  and  your 
courage  is  great.  You  will  be  pleased  to 
give  up  the  dearest  thing  you  have  for  your 
first  offering.  You  must  give  up  Ohitika. 
He  is  brave;  and  you,  too,  are  brave.  He 
will  not  fear  death;  you  will  bear  his  loss 
bravely.  Come,  —  here  are  four  bundles 
of  paints  and  a  filled  pipe,  —  let  us  go  to 
the  place! " 

When  the  last  words  were  uttered,  Ha 
kadah  did  not  seem  to  hear  them.  He  was 
simply  unable  to  speak.  To  a  civilized  eye, 
he  would  have  appeared  at  that  moment 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING  139 

like  a  little  copper  statue.  His  bright 
black  eyes  were  fast  melting  in  floods  of 
tears,  when  he  caught  his  grandmother's 
eye  and  recollected  her  oft-repeated  adage: 
"  Tears  for  woman  and  the  war-whoop  for 
man  to  drown  sorrow!  " 

He  swallowed  two  or  three  big  mouth- 
fuls  of  heartache  and  the  little  warrior 
was  master  of  the  situation. 

"  Grandmother,  my  Brave  will  have  to 
die!  Let  me  tie  together  two  of  the  pretti 
est  tails  of  the  squirrels  that  he  and  I  killed 
this  morning,  to  show  to  the  Great  Mystery 
what  a  hunter  he  has  been.  Let  me  paint 
him  myself." 

This  request  Uncheedah  could  not  refuse, 
and  she  left  the  pair  alone  for  a  few  minutes, 
while  she  went  to  ask  Wacoota  to  execute 
Ohitika. 

Every  Indian  boy  knows  that,  when  a 
warrior  is  about  to  meet  death,  he  must 
sing  a  death  dirge.  Hakadah  thought  of 
his  Ohitika  as  a  person  who  would  meet  his 


140  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

death  without  a  struggle,  so  he  began 
to  sing  a  dirge  for  him,  at  the  same  time 
hugging  him  tight  to  himself.  As  if  he 
were  a  human  being,  he  whispered  in  his 
ear: 

"  Be  brave,  my  Ohitika!  I  shall  remember 
you  the  first  time  I  am  upon  the  war 
path  in  the  0  jib  way  country." 

At  last  he  heard  Uncheedah  talking  with 
a  man  outside  the  teepee,  so  he  quickly 
took  up  his  paints.  Ohitika  was  a  jet- 
black  dog,  with  a  silver  tip  on  the  end  of 
his  tail  and  on  his  nose,  beside  one  white 
paw  and  a  white  star  upon  a  protuber 
ance  between  his  ears.  Hakadah  knew  that 
a  man  who  prepares  for  death  usually 
paints  with  red  and  black.  Nature  had 
partially  provided  Ohitika  in  this  respect, 
so  that  only  red  was  required  and  this 
Hakadah  supplied  generously. 

Then  he  took  off  a  piece  of  red  cloth 
and  tied  it  around  the  dog's  neck;  to  this 
he  fastened  two  of  the  squirrels'  tails  and 


He  began  to  sing  a  dirge  for  him.     Page  140. 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING          141 

a  wing  from  the  oriole  they  had  killed  that 
morning. 

Just  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  good 
warriors  always  mourn  for  their  departed 
friends,  and  the  usual  mourning  was  black 
paint.  He  loosened  his  black  braided  locks, 
ground  a  dead  coal,  mixed  it  with  bear's 
oil  and  rubbed  it  on  his  entire  face. 

During  this  time  every  hole  in  the  tent 
was  occupied  with  an  eye.  Among  the 
lookers-on  was  his  grandmother.  She  was 
very  near  relenting.  Had  she  not  feared 
the  wrath  of  the  Great  Mystery,  she  would 
have  been  happy  to  call  out  to  the  boy: 
"  Keep  your  dear  dog,  my  child!  " 

As  it  was,  Hakadah  came  out  of  the 
teepee  with  his  face  looking  like  an  eclipsed 
moon,  leading  his  beautiful  dog,  who  was 
even  handsomer  than  ever  with  the  red 
touches  on  his  specks  of  white. 

It  was  now  Uncheedah's  turn  to  struggle 
with  the  storm  and  burden  in  her  soul. 
But  the  boy  was  emboldened  by  the  people's 


142  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

admiration  of  his  bravery,  and  did  not  shed 
a  tear.  As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  speak, 
the  loving  grandmother  said: 

"No,  my  young  brave,  not  so!  You  must 
not  mourn  for  your  first  offering.  Wash 
your  face  and  then  we  will  go." 

The  boy  obeyed,  submitted  Ohitika  to 
Wacoota  with  a  smile,  and  walked  off  with 
his  grandmother  and  Wahchewin. 

The  boy  and  his  grandmother  descended 
the  bank,  following  a  tortuous  foot-path 
until  they  reached  the  water's  edge.  Then 
they  proceeded  to  the  mouth  of  an  immense 
cave,  some  fifty  feet  above  the  river,  under 
the  cliff.  A  little  stream  of  limpid  water 
trickled  down  from  a  spring  within  the 
cave.  The  little  watercourse  served  as  a 
sort  of  natural  staircase  for  the  visitors. 
A  cool,  pleasant  atmosphere  exhaled  from 
the  mouth  of  the  cavern.  Really  it  was 
a  shrine  of  nature,  and  it  is  not  strange  that 
it  was  so  regarded  by  the  tribe. 

A  feeling  of  awe  and  reverence  came  to 


HAKADAH'S  FIRST  OFFERING         143 

the  boy.  "It  is  the  home  of  the  Great 
Mystery,"  he  thought  to  himself;  and  the 
impressiveness  of  his  surroundings  made 
him  forget  his  sorrow. 

Very  soon  Wahchewin  came  with  some 
difficulty  to  the  steps.  She  placed  the 
body  of  Ohitika  upon  the  ground  in  a  life 
like  position  and  again  left  the  two  alone. 

As  soon  as  she  disappeared  from  view, 
Uncheedah,  with  all  solemnity  and  rever 
ence,  unfastened  the  leather  strings  that 
held  the  four  small  bundles  of  paints  and 
one  of  tobacco,  while  the  filled  pipe  was 
laid  beside  the  dead  Ohitika. 

She  scattered  paints  and  tobacco  all 
about.  Again  they  stood  a  few  moments 
silently;  then  she  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
began  her  prayer  to  the  Great  Mystery: 

"  0,  Great  Mystery,  we  hear  thy  voice 
in  the  rushing  waters  below  us!  We  hear 
thy  whisper  in  the  great  oaks  above!  Our 
spirits  are  refreshed  with  thy  breath  from 
within  this  cave.  0,  hear  our  prayer! 


144  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

Behold  this  little  boy  and  bless  him!  Make 
him  a  warrior  and  a  hunter  as  great  as 
thou  didst  make  his  father  and  grandfather." 
And  with  this  prayer  the  little  warrior 
had  completed  his  first  offering. 


VII 

THE   GRAVE   OF  THE   DOG 


r  "^HE  full  moon  was  just  clear  of 
the  high  mountain  ranges  when 

-*-  the  game  scout  moved  slowly 
homeward,  well  wrapped  in  his  long  buffalo 
robe,  which  was  securely  belted  to  his  strong 
loins;  his  quiver  tightly  tied  to  his  shoulders 
so  as  not  to  impede  his  progress. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  lowlands  into  the 
upper  regions,  he  loomed  up  a  gigantic 
figure  against  the  clear,  moonlit  horizon. 
His  picturesque  foxskin  cap  with  all  its 
trimmings  was  incrusted  with  frost  from 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils,  and  his  lagging 
footfall  sounded  crisply.  The  distance  he 
had  that  day  covered  was  enough  for  any 
human  endurance;  yet  he  was  neither 
faint  nor  hungry;  but  his  feet  were  frozen 


146  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

into  the  psay,  the  snow-shoes,  so  that  he 
could  not  run  faster  than  an  easy  slip  and 
slide. 

At  last  he  reached  the  much-coveted 
point  —  the  crown  of  the  last  ascent;  and 
when  he  smelled  fire  and  the  savory  odor 
of  the  jerked  buffalo  meat,  it  well-nigh 
caused  him  to  waver!  But  he  must  not 
fail  to  follow  the  custom  of  untold  ages, 
and  give  the  game  scout's  wolf  call  before 
entering  camp. 

Accordingly  he  paused  upon  the  highest 
point  of  the  ridge  and  uttered  a  cry  to  which 
the  hungry  cry  of  a  real  wolf  would  have 
seemed  but  a  coyote's  yelp  in  comparison! 
Then  it  was  that  the  rest  of  the  buffalo 
hunters  knew  that  their  game  scout  was 
returning  with  welcome  news;  for  the 
unsuccessful  scout  enters  the  camp  silently. 

In  the  meantime,  the  hunters  at  the 
temporary  camp  were  aroused  to  a  high 
pitch  of  excitement.  Some  turned  their 
buffalo  robes  and  put  them  on  in  such  a 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  147 

way  as  to  convert  themselves  into  make- 
believe  bison,  and  began  to  tread  the  snow, 
while  others  were  singing  the  buffalo  song, 
that  their  spirits  might  be  charmed  and 
allured  within  the  circle  of  the  camp-fires. 
The  scout,  too,  was  singing  his  buffalo  bull 
song  in  a  guttural,  lowing  chant  as  he 
neared  the  hunting  camp.  Within  arrow- 
shot  he  paused  again,  while  the  usual  cere 
monies  were  enacted  for  his  reception. 
This  done,  he  was  seated  with  the  leaders 
in  a  chosen  place. 

"It  was  a  long  run,"  he  said,  "  but  there 
were  no  difficulties.  I  found  the  first  herd 
directly  north  of  here.  The  second  herd, 
a  great  one,  is  northeast,  near  Shell  Lake. 
The  snow  is  deep.  The  buffalo  can  only 
follow  their  leader  in  their  retreat. " 

"Hi,  hi,  hi!"  the  hunters  exclaimed 
solemnly  in  token  of  gratitude,  raising  their 
hands  heavenward  and  then  pointing  them 
toward  the  ground. 

"  Ho,  kola!  one  more  round  of  the  buffalo- 


148  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

pipe,  then  we  shall  retire,  to  rise  before 
daybreak  for  the  hunt,"  advised  one  of  the 
leaders.  Silently  they  partook  in  turn  of 
the  long-stemmed  pipe,  and  one  by  one, 
with  a  dignified  "Ho!"  departed  to  their 
teepees. 

The  scout  betook  himself  to  his  little 
old  buffalo  teepee,  which  he  used  for  winter 
hunting  expeditions.  His  faithful  Shunka, 
who  had  been  all  this  time  its  only  occu 
pant,  met  him  at  the  entrance  as  dogs  alone 
know  how  to  welcome  a  lifelong  friend. 
As  his  master  entered  he  stretched  himself 
in  his  old-time  way,  from  the  tip  of  his 
tail  to  that  of  his  tongue,  and  finished  by 
curling  both  ends  upward. 

"  Ho,  mita  Shunka,  eat  this;  for  you 
must  be  hungry!  "  So  saying,  the  scout 
laid  before  his  canine  friend  the  last  piece 
of  his  dried  buffalo  meat.  It  was  the  sweet 
est  meal  ever  eaten  by  a  dog,  judging  by  his 
long  smacking  of  his  lips  after  he  had  swal 
lowed  it! 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  149 

The  hunting  party  was  soon  lost  in 
heavy  slumber.  Not  a  sound  could  be 
heard  save  the  gnawing  of  the  ponies  upon 
the  cottonwood  bark,  which  was  provided 
for  them  instead  of  hay  in  the  winter  time. 

When  Wapashaw,  the  game  scout,  had 
rolled  himself  in  his  warm  buffalo  robe  and 
was  sound  asleep,  his  faithful  companion 
hunter,  the  great  Esquimaux  wolf  dog, 
silently  rose  and  again  stretched  himself, 
then  stood  quiet  for  a  moment  as  if  medi 
tating.  It  was  clear  that  he  knew  well 
what  he  had  planned  to  do,  but  was  con 
sidering  how  he  should  do  it  without  arous 
ing  any  suspicion  of  his  movements.  This 
is  a  dog's  art,  and  the  night  tricks  and  ma 
rauding  must  always  be  the  joy  and  secret 
of  his  life! 

Softly  he  emerged  from  the  lodge  and 
gave  a  sweeping  glance  around  to  assure 
him  that  there  were  none  to  spy  upon  him. 
Suspiciously  he  sniffed  the  air,  as  if  to  ascer 
tain  whether  there  could  be  any  danger  to 


150  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

his  sleeping  master  while  he  should  be 
away. 

Up  the  long  ascent  he  trotted  in  a 
northerly  direction,  yet  not  following  his 
master's  trail.  He  was  large  and  formidable 
in  strength,  combining  the  features  of  his 
wild  brothers  of  the  plains  with  those  of 
the  dogs  who  keep  company  with  the  red 
men.  His  jet-black  hair  and  sharp  ears 
and  nose  appeared  to  immense  advantage 
against  the  spotless  and  jewelled  snow,  until 
presently  his  own  warm  breath  had  coated 
him  with  heavy  frost. 

After  a  time  Shunka  struck  into  his  mas 
ter's  trail  and  followed  it  all  the  way,  only 
taking  a  short  cut  here  and  there  when,  by 
dog  instinct,  he  knew  that  a  man  must  go 
around  such  a  point  to  get  to  his  destina 
tion.  He  met  many  travellers  during  the 
night,  but  none  had  dared  to  approach 
him,  though  some  few  followed  at  a  dis 
tance,  as  if  to  discover  his  purpose. 

At  last  he  reached  Shell  Lake,  and  there 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  151 

beheld  a  great  gathering  of  the  herds! 
They  stood  in  groups,  like  enormous  rocks, 
no  longer  black,  but  white  with  frost. 
Every  one  of  them  emitted  a  white  steam, 
quickly  frozen  into  a  fine  snow  in  the  air. 

Shunka  sat  upon  his  haunches  and  gazed. 
"Wough,  this  is  it!"  he  said  to  himself. 
He  had  kept  still  when  the  game  scout  gave 
the  wolf  call,  though  the  camp  was  in  an 
uproar,  and  from  the  adjacent  hills  the 
wild  hunters  were  equally  joyous,  because 
they  understood  the  meaning  of  the  un 
wonted  noise.  Yet  his  curiosity  was  not 
fully  satisfied,  and  he  had  set  out  to  dis 
cover  the  truth,  and  it  may  be  to  protect 
or  serve  his  master  in  case  of  danger. 

At  daybreak  the  great  dog  meekly  en 
tered  his  master's  rude  teepee,  and  found 
him  already  preparing  for  the  prospective 
hunt.  He  was  filling  his  inside  moccasins 
full  of  buffalo  hair  to  serve  as  stockings, 
over  which  he  put  on  his  large  buffalo 
moccasins  with  the  hair  inside,  and  adjusted 


152  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

his  warm  leggins.  He  then  adjusted  his 
snow-shoes  and  filled  his  quiver  full  of 
good  arrows.  The  dog  quietly  lay  down  in  a 
warm  place,  making  himself  as  small  as 
possible,  as  if  to  escape  observation,  and 
calmly  watched  his  master. 

Soon  all  the  hunters  were  running  in 
single  file  upon  the  trail  of  the  scout,  each 
Indian  closely  followed  by  his  trusty  hunt 
ing  dog.  In  less  than  two  hours  they  stood 
just  back  of  the  low  ridge  which  rounded 
the  south  side  of  Shell  Lake.  The  narrow 
strip  of  land  between  its  twin  divisions  was 
literally  filled  with  the  bison.  In  the  gulches 
beyond,  between  the  dark  lines  of  timber, 
there  were  also  scattered  groups;  but  the 
hunters  at  once  saw  their  advantage  over 
the  herd  upon  the  peninsula. 

"  Hechetu,  kola!  This  is  weU,  friends!  " 
exclaimed  the  first  to  speak.  "  These  can 
be  forced  to  cross  the  slippery  ice  and  the 
mire  around  the  springs.  This  will  help  us 
to  get  more  meat.  Our  people  are  hungry, 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  153 

and  we  must  kill  many  in  order  to  feed 
them!  " 

"  Ugh,  he  is  always  right!  Our  dogs  must 
help  us  here.  The  meat  will  be  theirs  as 
well  as  ours,"  another  added. 

"  Tosh,  kola!  The  game  scout's  dog  is 
the  greatest  Shunka  of  them  all!  He  has 
a  mind  near  like  that  of  a  man.  Let  him 
lead  the  attack  of  his  fellows,  while  we 
crawl  up  on  the  opposite  side  and  surround 
the  buffalo  upon  the  slippery  ice  and  in  the 
deceitful  mire,"  spoke  up  a  third.  So  it 
was  agreed  that  the  game  scout  and  his 
Shunka  should  lead  the  attack. 

"Woo,  woo,  woo!  "  was  the  hoarse  sig 
nal  from  the  throat  of  the  game  scout; 
but  his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  howling 
and  barking  of  the  savage  dogs  as  they 
made  their  charge.  In  a  moment  all  was 
confusion  among  the  buffalo.  Some  started 
this  way,  others  that,  and  the  great  mass 
swayed  to  and  fro  uncertainly.  A  few 
were  ready  to  fight,  but  the  snow  was  too 


154  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

deep  for  a  countercharge  upon  the  dogs, 
save  on  the  ice  just  in  front  of  them,  where 
the  wind  had  always  full  sweep.  There 
all  was  slippery  and  shining!  In  their 
excitement  and  confusion  the  bison  rushed 
upon  this  uncertain  plain. 

Their  weight  and  the  momentum  of  their 
rush  carried  them  hopelessly  far  out,  where 
they  were  again  confused  as  to  which  way 
to  go,  and  many  were  stuck  in  the  mire 
which  was  concealed  by  the  snow,  except 
here  and  there  an  opening  above  a  spring 
from  which  there  issued  a  steaming  vapor. 
The  game  scout  and  his  valiant  dog  led 
on  the  force  of  canines  with  deafening 
war-cries,  and  one  could  see  black  heads 
here  and  there  popping  from  behind  the 
embankments.  As  the  herd  finally  swept 
toward  the  opposite  shore,  many  dead  were 
left  behind.  Pierced  by  the  arrows  of  the 
hunters,  they  lay  like  black  mounds  upon 
the  glassy  plain. 

It  was  a  great  hunt!    "Once  more  the 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  155 

camp  will  be  fed/7  they  thought,  "  and  this 
good  fortune  will  help  us  to  reach  the  spring 
alive!  " 

A  chant  of  rejoicing  rang  out  from  the 
opposite  shore,  while  the  game  scout  un 
sheathed  his  big  knife  and  began  the  work 
which  is  ever  the  sequel  of  the  hunt  — 
to  dress  the  game;  although  the  survivors 
of  the  slaughter  had  scarcely  disappeared 
behind  the  hills. 

All  were  busily  skinning  and  cutting  up 
the  meat  into  pieces  convenient  for  carrying, 
when  suddenly  a  hunter  called  the  atten 
tion  of  those  near  him  to  an  ominous  change 
in  the  atmosphere. 

"  There  are  signs  of  a  blizzard!  We 
must  hurry  into  the  near  woods  before  it 
reaches  us!  "  he  shouted. 

Some  heard  him;  others  did  not.  Those 
who  saw  or  heard  passed  on  the  signal  and 
hurried  toward  the  wood,  where  others 
had  already  arranged  rude  shelters  and 
gathered  piles  of  dry  wood  for  fuel. 


156  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

Around  the  several  camp-fires  the  hunters 
sat  or  stood,  while  slices  of  savory  meat 
were  broiled  and  eaten  with  a  relish  by  the 
half-starved  men. 

But  the  storm  had  now  fairly  enveloped 
them  in  whirling  whiteness.  "  Woo, 
woo!  "  they  called  to  those  who  had  not 
yet  reached  camp.  One  after  another 
answered  and  emerged  from  the  blinding 
pall  of  snow.  At  last  none  were  missing 
save  the  game  scout  and  his  Shunka! 

The  hunters  passed  the  time  in  eating  and 
telling  stories  until  a  late  hour,  occasionally 
giving  a  united  shout  to  guide  the  lost  one 
should  he  chance  to  pass  near  their  camp. 

"  Fear  not  for  our  scout,  friends!  "  fi 
nally  exclaimed  a  leader  among  them. 
"  He  is  a  brave  and  experienced  man.  He 
will  find  a  safe  resting-place,  and  join  us 
when  the  wind  ceases  to  rage."  So  they 
all  wrapped  themselves  in  their  robes  and 
lay  down  to  sleep. 

All  that  night  and  the  following  day  it 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  157 

was  impossible  to  give  succor,  and  the 
hunters  felt  much  concern  for  the  absent. 
Late  in  the  second  night  the  great  storm 
subsided. 

"Ho,  ho!  lyotanka!  Rise  up!"  So  the 
first  hunter  to  awaken  aroused  all  the  others. 

As  after  every  other  storm,  it  was  wonder 
fully  still;  so  still  that  one  could  hear  dis 
tinctly  the  pounding  feet  of  the  jack-rabbits 
coming  down  over  the  slopes  to  the  willows 
for  food.  All  dry  vegetation  was  buried 
beneath  the  deep  snow,  and  everywhere 
they  saw  this  white-robed  creature  of  the 
prairie  coming  down  to  the  woods. 

Now  the  air  was  full  of  the  wolf  and  coyote 
game  call,  and  they  were  seen  in  great 
numbers  upon  the  ice. 

"  See,  see!  the  hungry  wolves  are  drag 
ging  the  carcasses  away!  Harken  to  the 
war-cries  of  the  scout's  Shunka!  Hurry, 
hurry!  "  they  urged  one  another  in  chorus. 

Away  they  ran  and  out  upon  the  lake; 
now  upon  the  wind-swept  ice,  now  upon 


158  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

the  crusted  snow;  running  when  they 
could,  sliding  when  they  must.  There  was 
certainly  a  great  concourse  of  the  wolves, 
whirling  in  frantic  circles,  but  continually 
moving  toward  the  farther  end  of  the  lake. 
They  could  hear  distinctly  the  hoarse  bark 
of  the  scout's  Shunka,  and  occasionally 
the  muffled  war-whoop  of  a  man,  as  if  it 
came  from  under  the  ice. 

As  they  approached  nearer  the  scene 
they  could  hear  more  distinctly  the  voice 
of  their  friend,  but  still  as  it  were  from 
underground.  When  they  reached  the  spot 
to  which  the  wolves  had  dragged  two  of  the 
carcasses  of  the  buffalo,  Shunka  was  seen 
to  stand  by  one  of  them,  but  at  that  moment 
he  staggered  and  fell.  The  hunters  took 
out  their  knives  and  ripped  up  the  frozen 
hide  covering  the  abdominal  cavity.  It 
revealed  a  warm  nest  of  hay  and  buffalo 
hair  in  which  the  scout  lay,  wrapped  in  his 
own  robe! 

He  had  placed  his  dog  in  one  of  the 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  DOG  159 

carcasses  and  himself  in  another  for  pro 
tection  from  the  storm;  but  the  dog  was 
wiser  than  the  man,  for  he  kept  his  entrance 
open.  The  man  lapped  the  hide  over  and 
it  froze  solidly,  shutting  him  securely  in. 
When  the  hungry  wolves  came  Shunka 
promptly  extricated  himself  and  held  them 
off  as  long  as  he  could;  meanwhile,  sliding 
and  pulling,  the  wolves  continued  to  drag 
over  the  slippery  ice  the  foody  of  the 
buffalo  in  which  his  master  had  taken 
refuge.  The  poor,  faithful  dog,  with  no 
care  for  his  own  safety,  stood  by  his  im 
prisoned  master  until  the  hunters  came  up. 
But  it  was  too  late,  for  he  had  received 
more  than  one  mortal  wound. 

As  soon  as  the  scout  got  out,  with  a  face 
more  anxious  for  another  than  for  himself,  he 
exclaimed: 

"  Where  is  Shunka,  the  bravest  of  his 
tribe?  " 

"  Ho,  kola,  it  is  so,  indeed;  and  here 
he  lies,"  replied  one  sadly. 


160  INDIAN  CHILD  LIFE 

His  master  knelt  by  his  side,  gently 
stroking  the  face  of  the  dog. 

"  Ah,  my  friend;  you  go  where  all 
spirits  live!  The  Great  Mystery  has  a 
home  for  every  living  creature.  May 
he  permit  our  meeting  there!  " 

At  daybreak  the  scout  carried  him  up  to 
one  of  the  pretty  round  hills  overlooking 
the  lake,  and  built  up  around  him  walls  of 
loose  stone.  Red  paints  were  scattered 
over  the  snow,  in  accordance  with  Indian 
custom,  and  the  farewell  song  was  sung. 

Since  that  day  the  place  has  been  known 
to  the  Sioux  as  Shunkahanakapi  —  the 
Grave  of  the  Dog. 


THE  END 


GLOSSARY  OF  INDIAN  WORDS 


Be-day-wah'-kan-ton,  lake- 
dwellers. 

Cha-tan'-na,  fourth  son. 

chin'-to,  certainly. 

Che-ton'-skah,  white  hawk. 

Chank-pay'-yu-hah,  carries 
the  club. 

coo'^wah,  come  here! 

ha-nah'-kah-pee,  grave. 

he-yu'-pee-yay,  come  all  of 
you! 

hay'-chay-tu,  it  is  well. 

Hah-kay'-dah,  the  last- 
born. 

he-nah'-kah-gah,  the  owl. 

Kah  -  po'  -  se  -  yah,  Light 
Lodges  (a  band  of 
Sioux). 

Ko'-lah,  friend. 

Man-kah'-to,  blue  earth. 

Mah-to',  bear. 

Mah-to'-sap-ah,  black  bear. 

Mah-pee'-to-pah,  four  heav 
ens. 

Me-ne-yah'-tah,  beside  the 
water. 

Me-chink'-shee,  my  son. 

Nak-pah',  ears  (of  an  ani 
mal). 


O-o'-pay-han'-skah,  blue 
bird. 

o-hit'-e-kah,  brave. 

shun'kah,  dog. 

Sna'-na,  rattle. 

shunk-to'-kay-chah,  wolf. 

She-cho'-kah,  robin. 

Shun'-kah-skah,  white  dog. 

tee'-pee,  tent. 

tak-chah',  deer. 

to-kee',  well,  well! 

Ta-tee'-yo-pah,  her  door. 

Un  -  chee'  -  dah,  grand 
mother. 

u-tu'-hu,  oak. 

wa-kan',  holy,  wonder 
ful. 

Wah-coo'-tay,  shooter. 

Wah  -  payr  -  ton,  dweller 
among  the  leaves. 

Wah  -  chee'  -  win,  dancing 
woman. 

Wee-ko',  beautiful  woman. 

Wa-doo'-tah,  scarlet. 

we'-yan-nah,  little  woman. 

We  -  no'  -  nah,  first  -  born 
girl. 

Wah-be-day',  orphan. 

Zee-zee'-wee,  yellow  woman. 


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\JUL    61978 

rec'd  circ.  JAN    6  19M)V  2  1  1999 

taraat* 

tAVp-  19HS 

JUL.  1  4  1978 

yui  272000 

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D^ 

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•HBftj  f  yyy          lii)  TO  **7o 

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ZOQ2 

MAY  1  4  1980 

LWi  Clt     MAY  1  e    J880 

DEC  o  9  «996 

ps.cn.  W2ni 

CIRCULATION  DEPT. 

f  EC  2  ^  1983  . 

II 

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